


Shelter In Place

by LeakingLlama



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Angst, BDSM, Begging, Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Bratty Q, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Canon - Musical, Canon - What's Canon?, Come Eating, Come Marking, Crack, Daddy Dom Eliot Waugh, Daddy Kink, Dimples, Dirty Talk, Dominance, Eliot Waugh's Canonically Huge Dick, Eliot is an Idiot, Eliot is so damn into consent, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Gentle Dom Eliot Waugh, Getting Together, Gratuitous Smut, Hairspray, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Hints of Malice, Idiots in Love, Kink Negotiation, Literally All There Is To Do Is Fuck, Love Confessions, M/M, Margo is Margo, Mutual Pining, Noncon Singing, PWP, Polyamory Negotiations, Power Play, Quarantine, Quentin is not a virgin, Quentin is pouty, Relationship Negotiation, Rimming, Seriously just some brief mild angst, Seriously so much goddamn fluff, Sexual Tension, Slutty Q, So goddamned syrupy sweet your teeth will fall out, Song: Without Love, Sub Quentin Coldwater, Submission, Submissive Quentin Coldwater, Switch Eliot Waugh, Switch Quentin Coldwater, This Is Just An Excuse For Porn, This is definitely Penny 40, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Voyeurism, but also angst?, kissing while crying, magic kink, musical episode, one bed, queliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:48:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 37,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23184310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeakingLlama/pseuds/LeakingLlama
Summary: Quentin eats spaghetti. Eliot gets a key. Covid-19 gets serious. Television is boring.Or...When the good Lord closes a portal, somewhere he opens a motel room.Quentin swallowed the lump in his throat. Partly because his anxiety of not being able to return to Brakebills, his safe place, without warning – of being stuck for god knows how long in a shitty motel in Jersey during a pandemic - had amped up his anxiety to eleven. And partly because the prospect of spending god knows how many nights in a shitty motel room with Eliot Fucking Waugh was just a little too exciting for his brain to fathom right now.COMPLETE!
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 43
Kudos: 229





	1. I Want to Break Free

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hoko_onchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoko_onchi/gifts).



> As promised, a quarantine fic, courtesy of Covid-19.
> 
> Hoko_onchi provided the prompt. I'm only following orders. :P
> 
> More chapters to come! This won't be super long. I'll finish it up in a day or two.

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go out there right now, Q. It’s getting pretty serious.” Julia was making one last half-hearted effort to keep Quentin from traveling to Jersey to make sure his dad was safe in the midst of a pandemic. She knew it was pointless. Once Q had made up his mind about something like this there was no stopping him. Still, she wouldn’t consider herself a good friend if she didn’t try.

“Jules, I’ll be back before you know it,” Quentin tried to reassure her. “It’ll be fine. It’s not like they’ve shut down the city or anything. They just want everyone to, you know, use a little caution, that’s all. That’s what I’m doing. I just want to make sure he has enough food and household supplies and everything so he can stay home and be safe while everyone rides this out.”

“And he’s got company,” came Eliot’s voice as he descended the stairs of the Physical Kids’ Cottage. Quentin stilled for a moment, as he usually did when Eliot appeared out of nowhere. Eliot had the kind of presence Quentin needed to prepare for. His impeccably pressed dark gray slacks, delicately pinstriped heather shirt and deep purple waistcoat would have looked embarrassingly overdressed on anyone else, but this was Eliot, and somehow, naturally, he made it sing. Quentin looked down at his baggy jeans and thin hoodie and felt…just, so very… _Quentin_ …about himself. He shook off the familiar feeling and focused again on Eliot, which was always the better choice. Getting lost in the entrancing, albeit unattainable, charisma of Eliot Waugh was infinitely better than wallowing is his own self-degradation.

“El, thanks for volunteering to go with him. You know I worry,” smiled Julia.

“Well, I was starting to get cabin fever around here – no offense to anyone in this room, of course – but since Henry has _recommended_ a certain degree of - self-containment - while this latest plague makes it rounds, Daddy’s been getting a little antsy,” drawled Eliot, seemingly to no one in particular. “Anyway, it would be nice to see Ted again. We rather hit it off last time, didn’t we, Q?”

_That would be putting it mildly,_ thought Q. Eliot had impressed his dad so much that Ted had pulled Q aside during their last visit and asked if they were dating. God, Quentin could only dream! But no, he’d assured his father that they were just friends. After which, Ted proceeded to inform Quentin that he’d better act quickly if he wanted to do something about that. The look of shock on Quentin’s face was wiped away by one of surprise when Eliot rounded the corner out of nowhere and made Q nearly jump onto the kitchen table. Sometimes Q could swear his dad had some kind of psychic magic of his own.

“Yeah, El, he thought you were great. Real shock there…” Q trailed off as he rolled his eyes.

Eliot flashed him a broad grin which Q couldn’t help but return, though he tried (and failed miserably) to hide it behind a curtain of hair. “Are we ready to go?” asked Q.

“Ready when you are,” smiled Eliot.

“Now listen up,” barked Margo, “portals have been tricky with the extra wards around here. Henry doesn’t really _want_ anyone going in or out until this is all over with so we had to get creative. This’ll dump you out in a _delightfully_ sketchy alley behind a motel that’s about an hour away from your dad’s house by bus. It’s the best I could do under the circumstances.”

“Ok,” breathed Q as he and El stepped in front of the portal. “We’ll be back in a few hours.”


	2. It's the End of the World As We Know It

The bus ride there was...eerie, to say the least. The streets were nearly empty. They were the only ones on the bus during most of the trip. Apparently people “on the outside” had been taking self-quarantine pretty seriously. Finally, they arrived at Ted Coldwater’s house, and the immediate change was striking. The warmth of welcoming arms, soft glowing candles, and that slightly musty _lived-in_ smell of well-loved furniture was such a stark contrast to the cold and abandoned feeling of the outside world that Eliot visibly shivered when he stepped inside. Although this was only the second time he’d made the trip, Eliot always seemed to feel _home_ in Ted Coldwater’s house, which was…honestly a bit unsettling, since Eliot got the feeling that he never really knew what “home” felt like _until_ he entered Ted’s Coldwater’s house.

The visit was a nice break, though short. Quentin had dropped the “I-go-to-magic-school” bomb on Ted months ago (which had gone surprisingly well), and Ted listened intently as Eliot explained how this virus that was going around was somehow resistant to magical healing. Professor Lipson suspected a hybrid of magical and mundane origin and they had so far been unable to ward against it or heal it magically, so Brakebills was following the same precautions as the rest of the non-magical world and hoping to do their best to help maintain the spread. They stayed for dinner – Ted had made spaghetti for them – and passed around a pot of coffee before Quentin reluctantly announced that they needed to be heading back. Ted assured them both that he would not leave the house and they promised to be in touch.

The bus ride back was almost surreal. The streets were deserted – a literal ghost town. They arrived at their stop near the portal and as they disembarked the bus driver noted, “Last stop of the night. Hope you got where you needed to go tonight.”

“Excuse me?” questioned a confused Eliot over his shoulder.

“Quarantine goes into effect 7:00pm,” grumbled the bus driver, “Don’t you watch the news?”

Well, no, they didn’t. They’d been preoccupied the whole afternoon talking with Ted and enjoying their day of freedom. Wait…did he say _quarantine?_

The bus driver drove off before either of them could ask for clarification. “Shit,” said Quentin, “good thing we got here in time.”

The pair walked around the motel to the alley out back and headed to where the portal was. Only…

There was no portal.

“Wait…what the fuck?” Quentin looked around frantically as Eliot patted his pockets in search of his phone. His heart sank into his stomach as he realized his phone was on silent and he read the barrage of messages form Margo:

“El, change of plans. You need to be back by 6:00pm. Quarantine. Wards going up.”

“El. WTF answer the goddamn phone!”

“Eliot. Seriously. 6:00pm.You will be stuck out there. Fogg is NOT fucking around.”

“ELIOT WAUGH SO HELP ME GOD IF YOU ARE NOT HERE BY 6:00PM I WILL FUCKING STAB YOU!”

“Fucking hell. I won’t be able to even get a text out once Henry wards the place. Please tell me you’re ok.”

_Shit._

“Um…Q?” Eliot’s voice was smaller than usual, which caught Q off-guard. Quentin looked at him cautiously.

“We’re not getting back to Brakebills tonight are we?” Asked Q.

Eliot shook his head and showed him his phone. Quentin reached for his own phone and realized it was dead. Guess that’s why he hasn’t heard from Julia.

“Ok,” breathed Q. “Ok so now what? We go back to my dad’s?”

Eliot thought for a moment then shook his head. “The buses have stopped running. The whole goddamned city is on lockdown, Q.” He looked up at the building beside them. “We’ll have to stay here. I don’t know how long the quarantine will last, but what other option do we have?”

Quentin swallowed the lump in his throat. Partly because his anxiety of not being able to return to Brakebills, his safe place, without warning – of being stuck for god knows how long in a shitty motel in Jersey during a pandemic - had amped up his anxiety to eleven. And partly because the prospect of spending god knows how many nights in a shitty motel room with _Eliot Fucking Waugh_ was just a little too exciting for his brain to fathom right now.

“Ok,” Q agreed. “Ok yeah, I mean, I guess it’s our only option.”

“Right,” stated Eliot, “I’ll go to the front desk and get us a room. See if you can work a little magic on some food supplies for us yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah ok,” said Quentin, quietly, as he tried to shake the onslaught of inappropriate ideas flooding his brain at the thought of “cheap motel” and “Eliot Waugh” in the same sentence.


	3. Stuck with You

“Ok,” said Eliot as he strutted toward Quentin. “Got us the last room they had available. Room 784. This way.” Eliot breezed by Quentin who had his arms full of magically supplied (stolen?) food and toiletries. Quentin hurried to keep up with El (though frankly didn’t mind being behind him as he walked up the stairs, truth be told) and nearly crashed into him as he stopped abruptly in front of a door that had a faded 784 nailed to the top corner. Eliot unlocked the door and the two stepped into a tiny rectangular space consisting of a 40” TV, a lamp, a door presumably leading into the small bathroom, and…one king sized bed.

“Oh,” said Quentin. Well… _shit_.

“Yeah,” remarked Eliot, unimpressed, “slim pickin’s. Looks like we’ll have to cuddle,” he winked as he sauntered over to the bed and flounced down on the comforter dramatically. Quentin swallowed the lump in his throat and cautiously wandered around to place the food on the desk in the corner.

“I’ll just, um…put the bathroom stuff in the, um…bathroom…” stammered Q, eloquently as ever. He closed the bathroom door behind him as he willed himself not to hyperventilate. I mean, he had definitely seen this porno before. And yeah, maybe in Quentin’s (rather full) fantasy life he could envision a scenario where he and Eliot artfully seduce each other and spend days on end fucking each other eight ways to Sunday…but…in reality…Quentin was a giant, socially-awkward super nerd with anxiety and depression and Jesus Christ Eliot was just… _Eliot_. And, despite the jokes and innuendos, Eliot Fucking Waugh would _never_ actually be interested in someone like Quentin. Never in a million fucking years. So Quentin took five deep breaths and resigned himself to a few weeks of television distractions, card games, and jerking off in the shower…so, you know, the usual.

As Quentin closed the door to the bathroom, Eliot visibly sank further into the bed. All he could think about was how Margo would be laying into him right about now. _Jesus Christ, El, just ovary up and bang the little nerd already._ Eliot felt downright chastised by imaginary Margo in his brain telling him to get the fuck over his pesky little _feelings_ and just…be Eliot Motherfucking Waugh. So why couldn’t he? He knew the answer, but denial was his gift, and he wore it so well. He knew he was fucked from the moment he watched that floppy-headed fuck stumble out of the bushes, blinking his _insane_ eyelashes up at Eliot like Dorothy Fucking Gale adjusting her eyes to Technicolor. Eliot was gorgeous and he fucking knew it – and he’d definitely had more than his share of other gorgeous men. But Eliot Waugh wasn’t ever taken aback by anyone. Eliot Waugh never cared about fucking someone and moving on. And Eliot Waugh _definitely_ didn’t do _feelings_.

But Quentin was different. Q wasn’t just some random doe-eyed first year toy. Q had become his friend. Like…close friend. Which, aside from Margo, was also something that Eliot didn’t really do. But he had. He had helped Q get through those first stressful weeks after his discipline had been “undetermined” and he had felt like a little lost orphan shuffled away in the Cottage just to keep him out of Dean Fogg’s hair. He had bene there for Q when his father got sick. Quentin had cried on his shoulder, and buried himself in his chest, and Eliot’s heart broke for him as he held him and just let him get through it. Eliot had met Quentin’s father, for fuck’s sake. Twice. Almost felt like…family, even. Or, like what Eliot imagined “family” ought to feel like. This was completely uncharted territory for him, and he was honestly fucking terrified. Not to mention that fact that Quentin was _cute_ …like _really fucking cute_ and Eliot had spent far too many nights envisioning all kinds of deviant plans for the adorable little nerd. How he would woo him and spend hours taking him apart. How his lips would taste. How his body would feel writhing underneath him. How Eliot’s mouth would stretch around his…

 _Ok fuck, pull yourself together, Waugh._ Eliot bounded up from the bed and began to undress for bed. He took off his pants and folded them neatly on the nightstand. He loosened his tie and began to unbutton his shirt when he heard the squeak of neglected hinges behind him and turned to find a very dumbstruck Q emerging from the bathroom.

Quentin stepped out of the bathroom to find a not-quite-half-naked Eliot on the other side of the bed and he froze in his tracks. Q’s gaze was greeted by Eliot’s pants-less ass in way-too-sexy-for-every-day underwear. Eliot turned to the sound of the door opening, and Quentin’s jaw dropped open as he raked his eyes down past the loosened tie to the sprinkling of dark hair beyond the shirt buttons Eliot was working on. Q mustered all the strength he could to keep his eyes above Eliot’s waistline, which resulted in him staring at the ceiling momentarily. Eliot’s brows furrowed together as he followed Q’s gaze up toward the ceiling, wondering if he was missing something.

“Hey, Q,” he said slowly, “everything ok?”

Quentin thought quickly. “Uh, yeah. Yeah just…um…I think I’m just…gonna…take a shower. Um, before bed…sleep, before going to sleep.”

_Smooth, Coldwater._

And with a quick turn on his heel, Q bolted back into the bathroom and Eliot heard the water turn on.

By the time Eliot heard the water stop he had undressed down to his underwear and was sitting up in bed with the blankets pulled up to his waist as he flipped through the channels on TV. He heard the unmistakable squeak of the bathroom door again and turned his head to see Quentin staggering out of the bathroom, hair wet and hanging down his back and face, with a towel wrapped around his waist.

Eliot was very grateful that his lower half was under the blanket. Quentin’s chest, back, and arms were speckled with water droplets from his dripping hair. Eliot almost gasped out loud. _That_ was what Q had been hiding under all those baggy hoodies and jeans. _Fucking REALLY???_ Oh this was just not fair at all. Q was…well damn, he was fucking _hot_. Ok Eliot always knew he was hot but like, he was also apparently hiding a damn good bit of masculine sex appeal under his sloppy attire and Eliot was _thrown_.

“Hey, um…” Q shuffled over to the bed with a pile of wet clothes. “So, the shower head was turned and got my clothes soaked and I…I couldn’t remember the drying spell. Could you…?”

Eliot shook himself back into consciousness. “Oh, yeah. Uh, sure…here…let me…” Eliot performed a quick tut and Quentin’s clothes were clean and dry. “There. Good as new,” El smiled.

“Thanks,” stammered Q, “I’ll just, um…I’ll go get dressed for bed.”

 _Oh god please don’t bother_ , thought Eliot. But Q had disappeared back into the bathroom and re-emerged a few minutes later wearing adorably just-slightly-too-big boxer briefs and a t-shirt. He walked slowly over to the bed and cleared his throat as he looked around.

“I can…I can sleep on the floor, if you want. Just, you know…if you need your space,” Q muttered.

“Q just get in the bed and stop being weird,” chuckled Eliot. “I won’t bite. Unless you ask nicely…”

Oh fuck Quentin was way too sober for this.

Q rolled his eyes. “Not much for biting, thanks.”

_Liar._

“Hmm,” mused Eliot, “suit yourself. I can be gentle.”

_Holy Mary Mother of God why. Thank the gods for the blanket…_

Quentin changed the subject as he pointed to the news reported on TV. “So what’s it look like out there?”

“Pretty bleak,” Eliot replied. “Looks like they’re calling for at least a two-week quarantine. Shelter-in-place order, 24-hour curfew.”

Fuck. Two weeks, alone, in a motel, with Eliot. I mean honestly, you couldn’t even write shit like this…

“Damn. Ok. So…I guess, we’ll be playing a lot of poker then,” Quentin laughed.

“Make it strip poker and you’re on, Coldwater,” Eliot short back.

“You do not want to take that bet with me, Waugh,” challenged Quentin. “Besides, you’re not even shy. You wouldn’t care if you lost.”

“So it should be an easy win for you then,” Eliot said playfully.

Quentin squinted his eyes as he glared at Eliot. “I like a challenge.”

Eliot narrowed his eyes and stared right back. “’S that so?” Eliot’s voice was low and thick, dripping with suggestion.

Quentin shivered. “Yeah,” he rasped. His head immediately went places it shouldn’t. Then after a pause he floated back to reality. “And you’re too easy for me,” he teased.

Eliot gasped dramatically and put his hand over his chest, “Bitch!” he declared as he grabbed a pillow from behind his back and threw it at Quentin’s face.

“Slut,” Quentin bit back as he returned the favor.

The two caught each other’s eyes for a moment, a brief flicker of heat seeping through, before Eliot turned and grabbed the remote to shut off the TV. They both settled down and lay side by side facing each other.

Eliot broke the silence. “You know, Q, slut-shaming doesn’t look good on you.”

“Nothing looks good on me,” said Q absently.

“That towel looked pretty damn good on you earlier,” ventured Eliot. “How long you been hiding all that hotness from us?”

Q blushed down to his neck. Eliot wondered how far down that went…

“Oh, you know,” said Q seriously, “just ever since my spaceship landed on that farm in Smallville…”

God he was such a delicious little dork. “Did you just make a DC joke,” demanded Eliot, obviously appalled, “In _my_ bed?”

“Hey, it’s my bed, too. Are you saying you _wouldn’t_ fuck Superman?”

“Would you?” Eliot was fishing for information. In truth, he wasn’t even 100% sure Quentin even _liked_ guys.

“Fuck yes, are you kidding me? Can you imagine the things you could do with super speed? And I mean shit, he could like, pick me up and pin me against the wall easy…”

Eliot froze while his brain rebooted and just blinked back at him. For like, a good ten seconds.

“What?” said Q, flicking his eyes to the side.

“Nothing,” said Eliot, “I just didn’t even know you…liked men that’s all, much less…Supermen.”

Q rolled his eyes. “I mean, well, yeah I…never really considered it a thing, you know? Just, I like who I like and gender doesn’t really come into play.”

“Oh it _comes into play_ alright,” shot Eliot, hoping Q would get the innuendo.

Quentin got it. “ _Parts_ come into play. And as far as parts go I’m…pretty versatile…”

“Interesting,” mused Eliot, licking his bottom lip.

Quentin ran a nervous hand through his hair. “I can’t believe we’re talking about this.”

Eliot shrugged. “It’s pretty on-brand for me.”

“It’s not for me,” said Quentin quietly, suddenly shy.

Eliot glanced down at Quentin’s lips. “Maybe I just bring out your inner slut.”

Quentin shot his eyes up to meet Eliot’s. “Maybe,” he whispered. The two locked eyes for a moment. “It that a bad thing?” Q asked.

“Have you met me?” said Eliot with a goofy grin.

Quentin giggled and looked down.

“We should get some sleep,” muttered Quentin after a beat.

“Probably,” agreed Eliot. He reached behind him to shut off the lamp next to the bed and settled back down facing Quentin again. He could barely make out his dark outline in the bed next to him, even though they were only inches apart. They lay in silence for a few minutes, and Eliot had wondered if Q had drifted off to sleep, when suddenly a small voice came from the dark Quentin-shaped mass in front of him.

“El?”

“Yeah, Q?”

“Do you think my dad will be ok?”

Eliot paused. “Come here, Q,” he said, reaching out to Quentin and pulling him into his chest. Quentin felt warm and soft in his arms, _like he belonged there_ , thought Eliot, and El felt him physically relax with a sigh as he held him close.

“I think your dad will be more than ok, Q. I know he will.” Eliot nuzzled into Quentin’s hair and inhaled slowly. Gods this boy smelled so good. Like pine and musk and soap and sweat and all the things that were just so uniquely _Quentin_. Eliot felt Quentin moving slightly in his arms. He was nuzzling into Eliot’s neck. Eliot’s breath hitched when he felt Q take a slow, deliberate inhale as his nose pressed against the underside of his jaw. Then Q slowly tilted his head upward until Eliot could feel Quentin’s breath on his chin. _What…the fuck…was happening…_

“El,” came a low, raspy, small voice that El knew had to be Quentin’s, but he had never heard Quentin sound like _that_ …

“Yes?” replied Eliot.

Quentin paused. Eliot felt Q tilt his head ever so slightly, felt a warm breath on his lower lip, followed by a faint but sultry whisper.

“I’m asking nicely.”

Eliot’s eyes went wide and dark. Quentin’s breath came hot and fast on Eliot’s lips, almost brushing them together, an expert tease. Eliot was so fucked. Quentin wasn’t moving. He was waiting for Eliot to close the distance. To be brave. And fuck if Eliot didn’t muster up all the goddamned courage he ever had and…

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Quentin’s, feeling Q melt like butter beneath him. Q’s jaw was shaking as he opened his mouth to allow Eliot’s tongue to lick inside. God, kissing Q was so much more than he ever imagined. His mouth was so soft and he just opened up for him and let Eliot take whatever he needed. Q moaned into Eliot’s mouth with each swipe of his tongue. Fuck, this man was unreal. Eliot wove his fingers into Quentin’s hair and pulled back just slightly. Quentin gasped and let his head be thrown back, exposing his throat to Eliot. _Oh yes,_ thought Eliot, _oh I can definitely work with that._


	4. Come Out and Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The smut begins. Quentin is...surprising...

Eliot latched onto Quentin’s neck and sucked a bruise just under his Adam’s apple. Quentin panted above him, fingers swimming through Eliot’s curls and tugging gently. Quentin’s hips pushed forward and Eliot could feel him, hard and leaking through his underwear against El’s stomach. It sent a bolt of electricity through Eliot that made him lightheaded and he let his forehead fall to rest on Q’s chin while he caught his breath.

“Fuck, El, don’t stop,” pleaded Quentin, his voice thick and ragged.

El laughed under his breath. “I’m not, Q, I just…gimme a minute…it’s…a lot…” El reached back to click on the dim lamp behind him.

“Too much?” Q’s voice coming out a bit smaller this time.

Eliot shifted up and cradled the back of Quentin’s head in his hand, looking straight into his eyes. “No, Q, not too much. You’re not too much…” He wasn’t even really sure why he’d said it, but…he meant it. Quentin’s eyes shifted, the softest expression on his face as his eyebrows knitted together and lifted slightly. Eliot could not handle the softness of this man in his arms. In his arms…Quentin Coldwater, _in Eliot’s arms, half naked, in his bed_. Eliot couldn’t take it any longer. He pulled Q back to his lips, determined and desperate, melting an absolutely _filthy_ kiss into his perfect mouth, licking deeply into him, tracing his upper teeth with the tip of his tongue, flicking the end of his tongue against Q’s then sucking it into his mouth as Quentin whined and shook beneath broad, strong hands coursing through his soft hair. God, his hair. It was just right for pulling on; for gathering up in his palm and tugging, guiding him wherever Eliot needed him to go. He would definitely need to explore that.

Quentin’s brain was absolutely misfiring. Sparks shooting in all directions, he felt like he didn’t know which way was up. Eliot Waugh… _Eliot Fucking Waugh was in his bed, kissing him like he was the last meal he would ever have._ Aaaaand that started an entirely different line of thought that went straight to Q’s dick – which, coincidentally, was hard as hell and leaking through his underwear as he pressed forward to rut against Eliot’s stomach. Eliot’s mouth moved along the line of Q’s jaw, back to a sensitive spot just below his ear. Eliot licked him here, ever so slightly, which sent Q squirming and panting into Eliot’s curls.

“Jesus, Q, you’re fucking _soaked_ ,” came a hot whisper just below Quentin’s earlobe.

“Yeah,” breathed Q, “you like that?”

“God I do,” sighed El. “Can I touch you?”

“Fuck, El, yes, _please_ ,” gasped Quentin. He felt like he was going to explode. He needed friction. Eliot slowly trailed his hand down Quentin’s chest, grazing gently over a nipple which made Q arch up into him.

“Eager, are we?” teased Eliot as he drifted his fingertips through the soft hair leading into Quentin’s waistband.

“I swear to god, Eliot, if you don’t touch my dick right the fuck now…”

“You’ll what?” challenged Eliot, grazing his fingers over Quentin’s hip bones.

Quentin stared at Eliot with the most adorably irritated look anyone could ever imagine.

“Asshole,” spat Quentin.

“That too,” assured Eliot as he palmed over Quentin’s erection through his underwear. Quentin let out a yell and Eliot began to stroke him through the wet fabric. “Take these off,” commanded Eliot, tugging at Q’s waistband. Q wasted no time pulling off his underwear and Eliot wasted no time grabbing Q’s cock and stroking him slowly, smearing pre-cum along the shaft as Q moaned with each stroke.

Quentin began to feel his body tensing and he grabbed Eliot’s hand, stilling it for a moment. “El wait, I don’t wanna come yet.”

Eliot passed his thumb over Q’s slit to gather a drop of pre-cum and lift it to his lips, sucking it clean. “So what do you want?” he asked, locking his eyes with Q’s.

Quentin tried to gather the thoughts that had scattered as his brain had started spinning. He took a few seconds to catch his breath, then looked up at Eliot through heavy-lidded eyes and whispered, “Let me suck you.”

Eliot’s jaw went slack and he searched for words. All he got out was, “Y-yeah…y-ok…” And then Quentin was pressing El’s shoulders into the mattress as he straddled his lap. Q sucked delicate kisses down Eliot’s neck, over his collarbone, leaving a trail of light marks down his chest. He stopped to give some much-needed attention to a hard nipple, which punched out a surprised gasp from Eliot. Quentin circled Eliot’s nipple with the tip of his tongue, occasionally lapping at it with broad strokes, then flicking it with just the tip of his tongue as Eliot writhed underneath him. “Fucking hell, Q!” Jesus this man’s mouth. Holy fuck, what else could that mouth do?

Quentin licked a line down his stomach and mouthed along the line of Eliot’s cock – which was fucking massive and Quentin had to stop himself from coming at the sight of it. “Quit teasing, Q… _please, dear gods…_ ” moaned Eliot, thrusting his hips upward in an attempt to get some goddamn friction.

Quentin didn’t need Eliot to twist his arm. He quickly pulled down Eliot’s underwear as his cock bounced back and slapped against his stomach. Quentin’s mouth watered as he settled in between Eliot’s legs, grasped his cock in one hand, and flashed a bratty (yet sexy) smile up at El before swirling his tongue around the head and swallowing Eliot’s cock as far as he could go. Eliot dropped his head back on the pillow and all but screamed as Quentin’s mouth worked up and down the length of his shaft, wet and messy and so, _so good_. Eliot tried to prop himself up on his elbows because _Jesus Christ he had to watch this_ ; but seeing Quentin go down on his cock like it was the most delicious fucking thing he’s ever tasted was almost too much. Eliot squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t come just from watching the ungodly hot spectacle that was Quentin Coldwater sucking dick. Fucking Christ the sounds that man made – it sounded like Q was about to come himself just from having Eliot’s dick in his mouth. And honestly, that wasn’t far off. Quentin _loved_ giving head. He had been dreaming about sucking Eliot off for months, and the reality of it – his cock warm and heavy on his tongue, the taste of pre-cum on his lips, the pressure of Eliot’s thick head hitting the back of his throat – Quentin was trying very hard to keep it together, but yeah, he could definitely come just from sucking Eliot Waugh’s cock.

“Fuck, FUCK, Q, wait…wait…I don’t want this to be over yet…” Eliot’s voice squeaked. Quentin popped off Eliot’s dick with a wet “pop” and looked up at El, pupils blown nearly completely black. His mouth was red and swollen and shiny with spit and hung open in the accidentally-sexy way that only Quentin could accomplish. Q panted a couple of times, trying to catch his breath.

“Can you go again?” Q’s eyes flicked sideways momentarily, returning to Eliot’s with a hopeful heat to them.

“Wha…huh?” Eliot had lost the capacity for speech, which was quite a feat.

“If I suck you off…make you come…can you get hard again?” asked Quentin.

Eliot’s brain cells worked hard to recover from…absolutely everything that was going on right now. “Um…I…uh…” Wow. Ok he sounded like Quentin what the fucking fuck was happening right now?

Quentin’s gaze followed the angled lines of Eliot, over his hips, along his stomach, and past his chest as he slowly crawled up Eliot’s body, planting gentle kisses along each new landmark. “Because I really…(biting his hip)… want…(kissing just next to his belly button)… you…(licking a stripe up his stomach)…to come…(teeth grazing a nipple)…in my mouth…(sucking on his collarbone)…but I also…(breathing a warm breath on his jaw)…want you…(placing his mouth just millimeters away from his ear)…to _fuck me_ ,” he whispered, hot, low, and knowing full well how goddamn fucking sexy he was in that moment.

Eliot was about to lose his goddamned mind.

“Yes,” Eliot said shakily, “yes, I can definitely go again.”

“Oh good,” Quentin whispered. He darted out his tongue to the tip of El’s earlobe before sliding back down to Eliot’s cock. With a wide grin, he steadied Eliot’s dick with one hand. El was so hard he was literally throbbing in Quentin’s hand, and Quentin honest to god started drooling. It was too big to fit in Q’s mouth completely, but damned if he wasn’t going to try. Quentin wrapped his lips around the head, then hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard as he sank all the way down to where his hand was pumping up and down at the base of his shaft. Eliot felt his head hit the back of Q’s throat and yelped as Quentin swallowed around him. Quentin gagged for a second and pulled back, then went right back in for more, drooling down the length of him and over his hand, making everything slick.

“Q! Fuck, don’t hurt yourself,” cautioned Eliot.

Quentin lifted up just long enough to grab Eliot’s hand, guide his fingers through the hair at the back of his head, shoot a determined look up to Eliot, and say, “more,” as he threw himself back onto Eliot’s dick and bobbed up and down.

“Fucking Christ, yes,” gritted Eliot through his teeth as he gripped Q’s hair firmly and began guiding him up and down over his cock. “Ffffuck, Q, you’re so goddamned pretty like this. God I have wanted to fuck you for so long. I imagined you sucking me off so many times. Thought about coming in your mouth. Coming all over your pretty face…” Eliot was just spewing complete filth as he worked Quentin’s mouth steadily over his dick.

Quentin pushed off of him, eyes watering, mouth red and used. “Harder. Harder, El. Fuck my mouth. Please. I can take it. I can take all of it.”

“ _Fucking hell,”_ Eliot growled as he pushed and pulled Quentin, thrusting up into his mouth. Quentin just _moaned_ around his cock like he couldn’t get enough and Eliot felt himself tip over the edge. “Oh fuck, Q! Quentin, FUCK I’m…” Eliot shouted Quentin’s name as he came hard inside Q’s hot little mouth. Quentin stilled as he felt cum hit the back of his throat and swallowed it down. Eliot relaxed his grip in Q’s hair as he came down from his orgasm, and Q pulled off, licking a drop of cum from the tip of Eliot’s cock, just to clean up.


	5. Here I Go Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The smut continues. Eliot is...also surprising...

Eliot’s pretty sure he dozed off for a few seconds. He blinked his eyes open to find Quentin cradled into his shoulder, lazily dragging his fingers through Eliot’s sweaty curls.

“Shit, Q, I’m sorry. Was I out?” Eliot asked.

Quentin smiled gently. “Only like a few seconds,” he reassured him. “See, I still taste like you…” and with that he surged upward to catch Eliot’s mouth in a searing hot kiss that was all tongue and tasted like cum and Eliot’s dick and Quentin’s sweet mouth. Eliot moaned shamelessly into Q’s mouth as he pressed forward, expertly maneuvering Quentin onto his back in one smooth movement with a grace that Quentin thought he would never be able to achieve. God this man was unreal. There is no way in hell Q would ever be able to be this smooth right after an orgasm like that. He was pretty certain El had some kind of superhuman strength. Maybe he did get to fuck Superman after all…

Quentin chuckled softly. “What?” asked El.

“I mean, you literally just passed out after that orgasm and here you are ready to throw me down on the bed again. I was just thinking that maybe my Superman fantasy wasn’t far off,” laughed Q.

Eliot smiled down at him fondly. “Oh really?” he lilted. “And what was it you said you wanted Superman to do? Pick you up and pin you against the wall?”

Quentin’s smile faded into a look of heated shock. “Um…yeah…” he mumbled, suddenly trembling.

Eliot bit his lower lip as he stared at Quentin hungrily. They locked eyes for a few tense moments. Then suddenly, Eliot grabbed Quentin’s ankles and threw them behind his back as he cradled his strong arms around Q’s back and stood up in one precise move. Quentin clutched onto Eliot’s shoulders as El steadied him with his hands on Q’s ass and began walking them toward the bathroom.

“Um, El?” Quentin wasn’t quite sure where they were going. “Why are we…”

Eliot flipped on the light and pressed Quentin’s back into the wall opposite the bathroom mirror. “I thought you might want to watch your fantasy play out,” explained Eliot. Q glanced over and took in the hind view of Eliot, his muscles working to keep Q firmly in the air with Q’s legs wrapped around Eliot’s waist.

“Holy _fuck_ , Eliot,” Q said, breathlessly. He looked back at El with a stunned expression. “You are literally perfect.”

Eliot flashed him a wide grin, then immediately attacked his neck, biting and sucking and leaving purple marks in his wake. Quentin threw his head back against the wall. “Shit. Oh fuck, yes. Oh my god…”

Eliot tightened his hands around Quentin’s ass as he held him up, which made Q buck up into his stomach, still achingly hard. Eliot shifted his weight to hold Q with one hand and pin him firmly against the wall while the fingers of his other hand moved deftly to find Quentin’ hole. Quentin drew in a sharp breath as his eyes popped open. He glanced behind Eliot into the spectacle that met him in the mirror and _fuck_ , ok they definitely had to find a way to watch themselves fucking in more ways than one because Jesus Christ the sight of them was too hot for words. Q let his head fall forward into El’s shoulder as Eliot messaged the pad of his finger around Quentin’s hole gently. “Ohhh,” Q moaned wantonly, throwing self-consciousness completely out the window. “ _Eliot,_ ” the word like a song on his lips. Jesus _fuck_ Eliot thought he would die from this right here and now. The way his name dripped from Quentin’s lips like it was the only thing keeping him alive sent Eliot into a spiral of feelings that he would never have allowed if he had the choice. Except he didn’t have a choice. Q drew feelings out of him and he was helpless to stop it. And at this point, he couldn’t think enough to care.

“As much fun as it is to fulfill your fantasy,” Eliot whispered into Q’s ear, “and believe me, Q, I want to fulfill _every one_ of your fantasies,” Q’s breath hitched, “I think maybe we should take this back to the bed. I have so much more in store for you.”

Q nodded his head frantically, unable to speak. Eliot gathered Quentin up, hands firmly on his ass and teasing along his crack with gentle fingertips, and walked them back to the bed. He (somehow gracefully) flopped Quentin back onto the bed and positioned himself over him, straddling his hips and leaning on his elbows on either side of his head. El leaned in close, lips gently grazing Q’s jaw.

“Still want me to fuck you?”

Quentin whined. “God, _please_ , El,” he breathed.

El pressed a short kiss to Q’s lips. “I’m gonna work you open for a while first. Think you can handle that?”

Quentin squirmed. “I, uh…I think so?...yeah…”

“Good,” Eliot hissed. Then he backed up, grabbed Quentin’s leg under his knee, and expertly flipped him onto his stomach.

“Oh fuck,” mumbled Q into the pillow. Eliot grabbed his hips and pulled them up to get Q onto his knees.

“I got you, baby,” Assured Eliot, the pet name rolling off his tongue before he could stop it.

“El,” moaned Q.

“Yes?”

“Do that again…please…”

“Do what, Q?”

“Call me ‘baby’”

Well, fuck.

Eliot draped himself over Q’s back and leaned forward to press his lips to the shell of his ear. “Baby,” he breathed. Quentin gasped and writhed beneath him. “You’re so fucking beautiful, baby,” Eliot muttered. Q groaned loudly. “Can I eat you out… _baby_?”

“Oh god,” Q yelled into the pillow.

“Is that a yes? I’ve been wanting to taste you for _so_ long, baby Q…” crooned Eliot.

“Yes,” came a muffled sound. Quentin’s hips rolled in the air, desperate for some friction and finding none. Eliot planted rough kisses and bites down Q’s shoulders and back as he made his way down to his ass. He licked a slow stripe along Quentin’s crack as he kneaded his ass in his palms. Quentin panted under him. El carefully spread his cheeks apart and drew the flat of his tongue against Quentin’s hole and Q screamed, his face pressed into the pillow beneath him.

Eliot grabbed a handful of Q’s hair and pulled his head up, arching his back so Q had to brace himself on the headboard. “Uh-uh,” scolded Eliot, “none of that. I want to _hear you_ , baby. Scream for me.”

He went back to work, dancing the tip of his tongue over Quentin’s hole, licking and fucking into him with his tongue, drawing the loveliest screams and moans from Q’s mouth. El moaned as he worked Q open with his mouth for what seemed like forever, until Quentin was sobbing into the bed and begging, “ _Please, El…please…_ ”

“Please what?” Asked El. “What do you need, baby?”

“I need… _god, El_ …I need you inside me. Your fingers…I…” Quentin’s words failed him.

“Yeah? I can do that,” El began to push himself slowly up Quentin’s body. “Turn over,” he commanded.

Quentin wasted no time in following orders. He flipped over onto his back and gave Eliot a heated, absolutely _wanton_ look as he spread his legs wide.

“Jesus, Q, look at you. You’re so fucking _pretty_ , baby. God you’re so wet and open for me. You can’t wait to get my cock in you, can you?”

Quentin shook his head and bit his lip.

_Goddamnit this man is killing me,_ thought El. Eliot performed the simple tut that slicked his fingers as he brought two of them up to rest against Q’s hole. He gently circled them as he began to press them inside, feeling Quentin give and open up beneath the pressure. Quentin groaned in pleasure as Eliot scissored his fingers to stretch him.

“Fuck, Q,” Eliot laughed, feeling almost delirious, “you just…you just fucking open up for me and _take it_ , holy shit.”

Eliot added another finger and Quentin grunted as he pushed down onto them. Eliot watched him with a look that was half lust and half disbelief as Q braced his feet against the bed and fucked himself back on Eliot’s fingers. Quentin’s dick was almost painfully hard and leaking all over. Eliot leaned down to lap at the pools of pre-cum on Q’s stomach, licking him clean. Finally unable to resist, El grabbed Q’s dick with his free hand and licked the head of his dick clean before taking him all the down to the root in one motion. “ _Eliot_ ,” Quentin yelled as he stilled, willing himself not to come. “Fuck, El, god, your mouth…oh my… _fuck…_ ”

“God, Q, you taste so fucking good,” cried Eliot as he came up for air.

“Fuck, um..El, shit, if you don’t shut the fuck up and stop touching my dick right now I’m gonna come,” warned Q.

Eliot froze, still three fingers deep in Quentin’s ass, but not moving a muscle. Q’s chest rose and fell as he took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. After a few minutes he relaxed. “Ok, ok, fuck…god that was…ok…yeah I’m, I’m good…” Q managed to breathe out finally.

Eliot was so close to coming again just from watching him. As much as he wanted this to go on forever, he really didn’t think they had it in them to make it much longer.

He leaned close to Quentin’s ear and growled, low and quiet, “Are you ready for my cock, baby?”

Quentin shivered. “Yes. Fuck, El, please. Fuck me. I need you inside me right the fuck now.”

Eliot drew his fingers out slowly and Quentin whined at the loss of pressure for a second. El pushed Q’s knees back toward his chest and lined himself up. A few tuts later and El’s cock was slick with lube and pressing against Quentin’s hole, wet and open and waiting for him. _This is completely unreal_ , he thought as he slowly pushed forward and felt the head of his cock breech the tight ring of muscle that he’d spent the last thirty minutes stretching out. Quentin gasped and gripped Eliot’s biceps hard enough to bruise.

“You ok, Q,” Eliot paused.

“Yeah,” breathed Q, “green light, El. All the way green.”

Eliot pressed forward slowly as Q cried out in pleasure beneath him. Suddenly Q braced himself on the bed and pushed himself down onto Eliot’s cock, burying him to the hilt with a grunt. A punched out sound left Eliot’s lungs.

“Ah! Quentin!” he yelled, “what the fuck, Q. Jesus you’re… _fucking Christ…_ ”

“Shut up and _move_ , El. Please,” said Q with a look of determination on his face.

Eliot pulled back and began rolling his hips, fucking into Q slowly but deeply. Quentin writhed around on the bed, clutching at the sheets and making the most _obscenely gorgeous_ sounds. Elliot moved faster, but cautiously.

“I _said…fuck. me._ ” Breathed Quentin through clenched teeth as he stared into Eliot’s eyes. Something animal woke in Eliot, and he grabbed Quentin’s biceps, pinning his arms above his head.

“Yes!” screamed Q as El began to thrust into him harder. Q brought his legs up toward his chest and rested his ankles on Eliot’s shoulders as El leaned forward, folding Quentin in half and pounding into him. Quentin sobbed and screamed Eliot’s name over and over and the sounds of Eliot’s thighs slapping hard and wet against Quentin’s ass filled the room. Eliot shook with exertion but didn’t let up. He was so close but wanted Q to come first. His breath caught as he noticed Quentin beginning to shake underneath him.

“Q are you…” Eliot hadn’t even touched Quentin’s dick and he was…fuck was he about to come just from…just from Eliot’s cock inside him…

“El,” said Q, breathlessly, “El I’m close, I… _fuck, Eliot_ … _oh fuckkkk....”_ Quentin screamed Eliot’s name loud enough to make Eliot glad he had secretly sound warded the place.

Eliot couldn’t hold out any longer. The idea of Q coming just from being fucked sent him over the edge. “That’s it, baby,” he moaned, “Come for me, Q, come on my cock, baby… _fuck, Quentin!_ ” Eliot screamed as he thrust himself hard inside of Quentin and came deep inside him. He watched as trails of cum covered Quentin’s stomach and chest while Eliot pulsed inside of him. El collapsed on top of Q, not caring that he was smearing cum in between them. He pulled out gently and slid down next to Q as they both panted, trying to catch their breath. There were tears in the corners of Quentin’s eyes as he let his head drop back onto the pillow. Eliot couldn’t take his eyes off of him. He was positively _glowing_ with sweat and sex and pleasure and just _so goddamn pretty_ Eliot could hardly fucking breathe. Jesus, how did he not do this a long time ago? Quentin was…fucking perfect. Eliot knew it was probably the sex hormones talking but, honestly…it really wasn’t. He knew how he felt. He had known for a long time and had been pleasantly in denial until…well, this shit show of an evening changed _everything_ , and Eliot realized that, much like Quentin at the moment, Eliot was thoroughly fucked.


	6. Take a Chance On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are brave.

Eliot lay on his back with Quentin cradled in the crook of his shoulder, stroking Quentin’s hair out of his face gently. Quentin tilted his chin up to give Eliot a shy smile.

“What?” asked Eliot as a slow grin crept along his face.

Q glanced around quickly before tilting his head down slightly, almost looking embarrassed. “I can’t believe you just fucked me,” said Q, looking up at El with raised eyebrows and dimples for days.

“I can’t believe it took me this long,” quipped El.

Q raised himself up on his elbow and faced Eliot. “Yeah why _did_ it take you this long? Because I have been thinking about this since I saw you perched on that Brakebills sign like a fucking supermodel,” Q chuckled.

“It _was_ one of my better entrances,” mused Eliot.

Quentin hit him playfully in the chest. “You arrogant prick,” he teased. Eliot caught his wrist as he pulled away.

“Worked, didn’t it?” he said as he pulled Quentin on top of him, settling his hands on the smaller man’s hips.

Quentin brushed the tip of his nose along Eliot’s cheek as he gently brushed his fingertips through Eliot’s messy curls. “It _really_ did,” he whispered as a wide grin grew over his face.

Eliot closed his eyes and bit his lower lip. “Jesus, Q, how are you real,” he sighed.

“Seriously? How am _I_ real?” Q laughed under his breath and shook his head. “You literally just gave be the _best_ orgasm of my life _and_ fulfilled my Superman fantasy. I’m not even 100% certain I’m not having a psychotic break and making you up.”

“Hmm,” Eliot hummed, “seems to be a running theme with you thinking I’m some kind of hallucination…”

“Well you _are_ kind of unbelievable,” said Q, with just the _slightest_ eye roll, petting his fingers down Eliot’s neck and over his shoulders.

Eliot shivered. “Do you even have any idea what you do to me, Q?”

Quentin raised his eyes to meet Eliot’s. “I’m starting to…”

Eliot reached out a shaky hand and tipped Q’s chin up to brush their lips together in the softest, most delicate kiss Quentin could imagine. Q felt like the world was spinning and he and El were the only ones standing still. Eliot gently cradled Quentin’s head between strong, gentle hands and rested their foreheads together, breathing together slowly and deliberately, as if they were sharing a single breath. Their eyes remained closed for what seemed like hours as they gently brushed the tips of their noses together, breathing in the scent of each other and falling into the feeling of finally being… _home_ …

Finally Quentin uttered a soft whispered, “El?”

“Yeah, Q?”

Quentin opened his eyes to meet Eliot’s. “Um…I have to pee…” said shyly.

Eliot laughed underneath him as his eyes crinkled around the edges and his chest shook Quentin on top of him. “Soft limit. Go to the bathroom,” he winked.

Quentin blushed and gave him a surprised look as rolled his eyes. “Oh my god,” he giggled as he pushed himself off of Eliot gracelessly and stumbled on wobbly legs to the squeaky bathroom door. As the door shut, Eliot let out a sigh that seemed he’d been holding in for days as he let his head crash back onto the pillow. He tried to wrap his head around what the fuck was happening, going over and over the events of the last hour and trying to make sense of them. The things Quentin had done, the things he had _said_ , the way he had _looked_ at Eliot…Jesus Christ Eliot had just had what was probably the best sex of his life at the hands of this surprising little bundle of sexy nerdiness that literally fulfilled fantasies Eliot didn’t even realize he had. But even more surprising – and a little alarming – was the fact Eliot found himself _missing_ Quentin just because he was in the bathroom. Ok, so this was new. _What the fuck, Eliot, Jesus get a grip_. He wanted nothing more than to wrap Quentin up in his arms and fall asleep with him. He let his imagination drift off to the next morning, waking up with Q’s tangled hair in his face, legs entwined together, drool and sweat and morning breath and all, bodies plastered together as the light streamed in through the cracks in the musty motel curtains. He thought about kissing him lightly on the cheek before rolling gently out of bed to make him breakfast. Bringing him coffee and waking him up with gentle touches and soft sighs. Day after day…each morning…

_Fuck._

His fantasy/panic was interrupted by a familiar squeak, follow by the sight of a _very_ wrecked Quentin shuffling his way back to the bed. Eliot was grinning ear to ear.

“What?” Quentin smiled nervously.

“You look thoroughly well-fucked, Q,” explained Eliot as he looked him pointedly up and down.

“Oh yeah? And whose fault is that…” Q shot back with a mischievous look on his face.

Oh gods, Eliot was done for. “Brat,” he teased as Quentin crawled back under the covers next to him.

Quentin stuck his chin in the air defiantly, less than an inch away from Eliot’s mouth. “You like it,” he purred, his voice low and smooth.

“I do,” returned Eliot, slowly running the flat of his tongue along Quentin’s lower lip, sending a shiver down Q’s spine.

Quentin closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh as he sucked in his lower lip. “God, how do you taste so good?”

“I probably taste like your dick,” joked Eliot.

“No wonder I like it,” quipped Q.

“Like the taste of dick, do you?”

“I think that’d be fairly obvious,” said Q with a roll of his eyes.

Eliot leaned in, brushing his lips against Quentin’s. “You do seem to have a bit of an oral fixation…” he said, as he pressed a hard kiss into Quentin’s lips. Quentin’s jaw dropped open and El took the invitation to fuck his tongue ravenously into Q’s mouth, which was met with shamelessly loud moans from Q that would have gone straight to Eliot’s dick if it had had any life left in it. Quentin sucked Eliot’s tongue into his mouth hard, and Eliot gasped against his mouth, grabbing Q by the nape of the neck and pulling him forward. Quentin responded automatically by going limp and letting his head fall back into Eliot’s hand, enthusiastically allowing himself to be momentarily dominated.

“Oh,” Eliot breathed, biting his lower lip and smiling menacingly. “So that’s…a thing…”

Quentin looked at Eliot through heavy eyes. “Yeah. Th-that’s…a-a thing…apparently…”

Eliot relaxed his grip and pet Quentin’s hair soothingly. “Well that’s definitely something we will need to explore later. But for now, I’m thinking we might want to get some rest. We’ve had enough…exertion…for one day I think.”

Quentin agreed, reluctantly. He settled into Eliot’s side and wrapped his arm around Eliot’s chest. Eliot reached over and clicked off the lamp next to the bed and cuddled Q closer, wrapping his arms around him and smiling contentedly when Q nuzzled his face into his chest. Eliot closed his eyes and tried to relax without overthinking, which was…failing miserably. After a few minutes, he pulled away from Q slightly and nudged him to see if he was asleep.

“Q,” he whispered.

“Hmm?” came a sleepy reply.

Margo’s voice flooded his brain. _Ovary up, Eliot_. “Um…I…” he knew what was on the tip of his tongue, but… _not that…not yet…baby steps, El_ …”I…I wanna keep doing this.”

Quentin lifted his head to squint through the darkness at the dark shadow that was Eliot’s profile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” breathed El, quietly.

“Yeah. Me too,” replied Q.

Ok, that went ok. Maybe that was good enough for now…maybe… “Ok. Good.”

An awkward silence ensued and Q wasn’t putting his head back down on the pillow. So that got Elliot’s heart going a little faster. _Stay calm. Stay. Calm._

“Um…El?” A tentative transition…

“Yeah, Q?”

“Um…so, what…what _is_ ‘this’, uh, exactly?”

_Shit. Ok fuck. Jesus, El, don’t screw this up. You always screw this up._

Eliot took a deep breath that he almost forgot to let out. “Um…I don’t…know,” he admitted.

“Ok,” began Q. Oh well fuck. Q was using his nervous fanboy voice. Shit. El had no choice now. He was talking about _feelings_ whether he liked it or not because god knows he could _not_ resist Q’s fanboy voice.

“Ok, so, like, I guess there could be, like, a lot of different ways this could go. And um, I guess we just, I don’t know, need to each figure out which direction we want it to go and hope that they, um, like match up? Or…or if not, I mean, that’s ok too, just…um, I guess we’ll cross that bridge, uh…if, need be…”

Oh god, he was rambling. _Shit_. Ok, Eliot _really_ needed to stop this train, like now.

“Ok ok Q, stop.” Saved by the El. He took a deep breath. He was doing this. “Ok, um, so here’s the thing. I…am…not good at…feelings. And, the thing is, I have them, so I really don’t want to just push them aside, for once, because honestly, it’s really, _really_ fucking nice.”

Quentin’s eyes began to adjust to the darkness and he stared into Eliot’s face as he continued.

“But like, I am also _really_ good at fucking things up, and I don’t want that to happen with you because you’re like my best friend and I don’t think I could handle it if I lost you.”

Quentin took a few moments to take all that in. Eliot looked like he was going to be sick. A tense silence spanned between them for what seemed like an eternity, until finally Q broke the silence.

“Ok. Um, so, I can see where you’re coming from. And I can see how that…must be terrifying for you. And I am like, _really_ proud of you for saying all that.” Eliot stared into Q’s eyes for the first time, which were just so, _so_ soft and _kind_ and caring he could hardly stand it, but yet, he couldn’t look away.

Quentin continued, “And I just want to say that I, um, I have feelings too. Like, a _lot_ of feelings. Really fucking _terrifying_ feelings right now, and I don’t want to ignore them either. And I don’t want to lose you. But I think that…um…if I don’t act on them, I will probably end up feeling like I’ve lost you anyway, and I don’t want that. I…” Quentin took a deep, shaky breath. “I want to try. I want to try a…I don’t even know…like a real relationship, with you, I guess and…I mean and I understand if you don’t want that and…but, I feel like I just needed to…um, say it.”

And Eliot, _Jesus_ , he thought, _how is Q so goddamn brave?_

Eliot curled his hand around Quentin’s neck gently and caressed his thumb along the side of his cheekbone. How was this even real? This man – this beautiful, perfect man – was lying here in front of him pouring out his heart, offering it to him on a goddamned golden platter. How could Eliot take him up on that, knowing full well that he would probably fuck it up? But then again, how could he say no and hurt him? Fuck. _FUCK_.

_Ovary. The fuck. Up._

“Q,” Eliot’s voice was trembling and soft. “You are…the most perfect man I have ever met. And I don’t fucking deserve you. I don’t deserve to have sex with you, and I don’t deserve to be your friend, and I definitely don’t deserve to be your…” Eliot froze. _No, not that word…_ ”to be in any kind of relationship with you. You are…so kind, and _so fucking brave_ , and beautiful and ridiculously sexy,” God how Eliot wished he could see the blush rise to Quentin’s skin when he said that, “and I don’t understand how you could possibly have feelings for someone like me. But…you make me want to be brave, Q. And if that means that we…that we try…that we give it an honest shot…then, then so be it.” Quentin’s breath hitched, more than once. Eliot pressed a firm but sweet kiss to Quentin’s trembling lips, strong and soft, like he’s never meant anything so earnestly in his whole life. They locked into each other for what seemed like forever, neither wanting to break it. Finally, they pulled apart slowly and hovered together, lips barely apart, breathing each other in. Eliot locked his gaze onto Quentin’s wide-open and trusting eyes, took in a trembling breath, and whispered, “Let’s be brave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank to everyone for being so encouraging! I am still adding more to this. Quarantine is just beginning and there's a lot that can happen in close quarters.


	7. Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have a really good morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So our gentleman are...not so gentle for round two. They explore some new kinks and revitalize some old ones. There is much sex and ending fluff. 
> 
> CW for power play and manhandling, along with what may appear to be dubcon if you overlook the pre-negotiated D/s agreement. Might be triggering for some. Involves holding down, rough handling, "consensual forced entry" if you will.

Eliot awoke with a mouthful of hair. His brows furrowed as he groggily startled, pulling his head back from the wall of tangled locks in his face. He squeezed his eyes shut and blinked rapidly, trying to orient himself to the morning. His left arm was asleep and wedged underneath a sweaty mass of Quentin, softly snoring in front of him. His right arm was flung over Quentin’s hip, covered partially by the stiff and over-bleached hotel blanket. Quentin’s back was facing Eliot and as El slowly willed the sleep out of his eyes he began to focus on the ridiculously adorable bedhead the little nerd was sporting. Eliot smiled softly as he took in the scene before him. He recalled bits of last night’s conversation, and the events preceding it, which sent a flutter through him that was equal parts arousal and fear. Eliot had…Jesus Christ, he had, what, not only fucked his best friend – whom he’d had the most _painful_ crush on over the last several months – but then had an actual conversation about his _feelings_ and…and asked to start an honest-to-gods _relationship_ with him… _fucking hell what the shit was going on?_ And this man…this man had agreed to…to _everything_. This beautiful man who presently was cuddled up next to Eliot, snoring and drooling onto his pillow gracelessly, pliant and melted into him, so soft and warm and _good_ , smelling of sleep and cheap soap and morning breath and sex. Eliot inhaled deeply, slowly exhaling a gentle sigh with eyes closed and head spinning, over and over, each time reveling in the deep scent of Quentin, the feel of his ribs pressing his arm into the bed, the soft swell of his ass grazing his thigh…

Eliot was hard. Both men lay naked in the rough sheets, cocooned in a little pocket of air beneath the blanket. Eliot was torn between letting Q sleep peacefully and pressing his hips forward to (gently) nudge him awake. He thought about the things they did last night, the things they could do today, and the things they haven’t even considered doing yet but that…might be something to visit in the future? He decided that waking Quentin up by poking him with his dick was decidedly nonconsensual, and settled for rotating slightly so that his length pressed softly into the mattress, allowing him some friction to take the edge off while his mind wandered…

He was jolted back to reality by a rough stirring beneath his arm. Quentin shifted to grab the blanket and pull it up toward his chest when he was impeded by Eliot’s arm. He cracked open his eyes to look down at the tangled network of limbs below him. As if the entirety of last night suddenly hit him, he flinched before looking back with blurry eyes to meet Eliot’s startled face just over his shoulder. Eliot was still _very_ slightly rocking into the bed, which drew Quentin’s attention immediately. Q glanced down toward El’s hips as a sleepy smile slowly danced its way over his mouth.

“Starting without me?” He teased, bringing Eliot’s hand up to his mouth to place a sweet kiss to his knuckles.

“Mmm, never,” Eliot hummed, “just patiently waiting for you to arouse from your peaceful slumber.”

“Uh huh,” Q rolled his eyes, “and I see your hips have their own ideas…”

“Yeah they do sometimes,” Eliot quipped, a broad smile brightening his face as Quentin tilted his chin up toward Eliot, asking for a kiss. Eliot obliged, pressing their lips together slowly, sweetly, with just a _hint_ of heat for good measure. Quentin sighed as he pulled back. He pressed into a deep stretch, arms and legs jutting out amid strained, relieved sounds coming from Quentin’s throat. He arched his back into it, pushing his ass backwards and into Eliot’s growing erection, which was, by now, straining forward and… _oh…ok yeah that’s…_ Eliot’s hips rolled forward to grind his dick harder against Quentin’s ass as El sucked in a sharp gasp. Quentin kept his back arched, deliciously _posing_ and providing the resistance Eliot needed against his hard-on. Then with the most devilish, sexy, and – good Lord, _confident_ – look Eliot had ever seen, Quentin looked back over his shoulder, holding Eliot’s gaze steady in deep, _wanting_ eyes, and said, low and hot under his breath, “So why don’t you fucking do something about it?”

Eliot’s eyes turned ravenous. He tilted his head down to peer at Quentin from under his dark eyebrows and gritted through his teeth, “You’re a _brat_.” Quentin bit his lower lip and returned his sharp glare stubbornly. Something about being called a _brat_ made Quentin shake low in his stomach. He had never thought about any kind of overt power play before and still wasn’t sure how far he would like to go with this but…oh he _liked_ it. He _liked_ being called a brat. He liked it when Eliot gave him that _look_ – like he was…not quite angry but… _challenged_. He liked to feel like he was challenging him. He wanted to provoke him… _make him_ put him in his place…

Quentin panted softly, maintaining his steady gaze locked onto Eliot’s dark, blown pupils. “Yep,” he said raising his eyebrows and popping the “p”.

Eliot pulled his head back a little and gave him an incredulous look. He shifted his jaw slightly and ran his tongue over his top teeth, gathering his thoughts and taking his time. He liked where this seemed to be going…

“Get over here.” Eliot’s voice was low and steady, a slight smile lit across his lips. Not _quite_ an order yet but more of a…strong encouragement. He was testing the waters…

Quentin tested them right back. “Make me.”

Eliot blinked as his head swirled momentarily. _Seriously did someone create this man in a lab?_ Quentin stared defiantly back at him, heat surging through his expression. They both froze, chests rising and falling as they both began breathing more heavily. Q twitched his eyebrows up – a pointed dare that did not go unnoticed by Eliot who was poised on a hair trigger, ready to pounce.

And pounce he did. In one (fucking _deliciously_ smooth) move, he positioned a hand on Quentin’s shoulder while hooking his leg around Quentin’s knee. Then he levered Q onto his back and hoisted himself on top of him, straddling his hips with his knees and caging in his shoulders with strong, muscled arms pressing into Quentin’s biceps. Quentin’s eyes went wide, his pupils nearly completely black. Eliot eyed him like prey – pretty, perfect prey. What he wouldn’t give to just completely _devour_ this man right now, to take him apart piece by piece, ravenous and wanting, to feel him go limp and _submit_ wholeheartedly, trusting and perfect.

But Eliot had standards. And morals, believe it or not. And those standards included an absolute, 100% insistence on enthusiastic consent. As much as Eliot could see that Quentin apparently wanted this – that he had, in fact, instigated this – Eliot knew that kinks needed to be negotiated. They needed to talk.

“Q,” Eliot pushed out, a quiet question.

“Yeah?” breathed Q, not taking his eyes off Eliot’s.

“Q, _baby_ ,” Quentin shuddered, “I need to make sure you’re ok with this. I need to make sure I know what you want. I need you to tell me.”

Quentin nodded.

“Uh uh, that’s not good enough, sweetheart. I need to hear you. Can you use the traffic light system for me? Red, yellow, green?”

“Yes,” answered Quentin.

“Good. That’s good,” assured Eliot. Quentin’s stomach flopped at the praise. Something new to explore, apparently. “Now,” Eliot stroked his finger tenderly over Quentin’s jaw, letting it come to rest just below his ear. “Tell me what you want.”

Quentin swallowed hard. His mouth gaped open, waiting for the words to show up. Eliot held his face in his hand, strong and sure, and gave him a reassuring nod. Quentin took a deep, relaxing breath. “I want you to take control,” he said. “I want you to tell me what to do. I want you to do whatever you want to me, to my body. Put me where you want me to go. Move me the way you want me to move.” Quentin’s voice grew steady with confidence as Eliot beheld him with the most tender and sincere look he’s ever seen him give _anyone_. Quentin continued, “I want you to…t-tell me I’m good. Tell me I’m good for you. I want to be good for you. I want you to show me how to make you feel good.” Quentin let his gaze fall toward Eliot’s collarbone.

“No no no, up here, sweetheart,” Eliot encouraged, lifting Quentin’s chin and meeting his gaze with soft, open eyes.

Quentin stared at Eliot, not wanting to disappoint him. “Order me,” he breathed. “I want to submit to you.”

Eliot’s cock twitched at that last utterance. Quentin’s eyes were drawn momentarily to the movement below, then glanced up with a bit of a smile. Knowing that he had caused Eliot to become that hard – that _his_ words had literally gone straight to Eliot’s dick – gave him a small boost of confidence. He smirked and added, “plus sometimes I want to be a little bratty.”

Eliot huffed out a laugh. “I can handle bratty,” he said.

“Good,” replied Q, “because every once in a while I might need you to put me in my place…” Q reached his hand up to trace a finger down Eliot’s cheek.

And _oh fucking hell_ that did it. Eliot grabbed the wrist of Quentin’s wandering hand and pinned it over his head. Quentin let out a loud moan to let Eliot know that _yes, this was definitely green_. Eliot grabbed Quentin’s other wrist forcefully and wrapped his big hand over both of them as he pinned Q in place beneath him.

“Fuck,” breathed Q, eyes wide open and hungry. He looked up at Eliot, who was crowding over him with a look of pure _possession_. Quentin gave a little test tug on Eliot’s grip, which tightened against the struggle. Eliot read Quentin’s face for signs of actual distress but was only greeted with a sly smirk and a hungry glare.

“You green, baby?” asked Eliot as he nosed along Quentin’s jawline.

Quentin shuddered at the feathery touch. “Yeah, yes. Green. So fucking green.”

Eliot hummed in satisfaction. “Mmmmm, good. Now are you going to be a good boy for me or will I have to punish you?”

Quentin sucked in a sharp breath before dropping his jaw and letting out a shuddering hot breath that went directly to Eliot’s cock. “Yes, I’ll be good,” Quentin managed to shake out. “I’ll be a good boy for you…Daddy.”

Now it was Eliot’s turn to gasp. Eliot may have had his share of Dom/sub experiences, but nothing could have prepared him for the experience of Quentin – tiny, timid little Fillory nerd fangirl Quentin Makepeace Coldwater – struggling underneath him and calling him “Daddy.”

“ _Fuck…_ ” shuddered Eliot. He leaned in and kissed Quentin hard, prying his mouth open with his jaw and fucking his tongue into his warm mouth. Quentin moaned loudly, muffled by Eliot’s mouth. Quentin shoved his tongue against Eliot’s as Eliot turned his head and deepened the kiss opening wide around Q’s mouth. They clashed their tongues together wildly, battling each other (because Q wasn’t giving up his bratty streak _entirely_ ). Eliot finally had enough and sucked Quentin’s tongue into his mouth _hard_ , eliciting an insanely pornographic moan from Quentin’s mouth, underpinned by just a _touch_ of pain. Quentin went limp beneath Eliot’s long frame and, with a sigh, let Eliot know he had submitted.

Eliot came off of Q’s mouth with a sharp slurp and began to nose under Q’s chin. “I see you’re going to be a challenge,” mused Eliot as he lazily licked at Quentin’s neck.

“You like a challenge,” said Q, pressing his head back into the pillows to bare his throat for Eliot. Eliot took advantage by sucking a purple mark on the side of his neck. Quentin shook with arousal, loving the idea of being marked by Eliot – of being branded as _his_.

“El…Eliot…” Q panted. He was painfully hard and begging for relief. “El _please_ …”

“Please what, baby Q?”

“Please touch me… _please, Daddy_.”

“Oh sweetheart, I know you can beg better than that,” taunted Eliot.

Quentin whined and writhed under Eliot’s weight, trying to push his hips up. Eliot arched his back to bring his cock _just_ out of reach as he spread his palm across Q’s hip and pushed him back into the bed.

“Now whatever happened to being a good boy, Q?” Eliot shook his head in disappointment. “I see you may need a firmer hand than I thought.”

That set something off in Q’s brain that sparked all the way down to his dick. Quentin fixed his eyes determinedly on Eliot as he gritted out through clenched teeth, “ _Fuck you._ ”

Eliot’s eyes went black as his cock jumped and his stomach turned over. Quentin was just full of surprises, wasn’t he? _Ok, Eliot, this is not a drill._ Jesus this boy, _this boy_ was just lying there fucking _begging_ to be Dommed _just_ the way Eliot likes it. Like he was _made_ for him and him alone. And Eliot was not going to let this opportunity pass him by. He was going to give Quentin _everything_ he wanted, tell him exactly what he needed to hear, claim him, take care of him, let him know how special and how ( _oh fuck it_ ) how goddamn _loved_ he was.

Eliot flew into action like a wild beast. He reached down between them and grabbed Quentin’s cock hard, giving it three rough pulls. Quentin shouted as he arched off the bed, happy for the friction and painfully turned on by the absolutely _ravenous_ look in Eliot’s eyes. Then Eliot let go and Q sobbed helplessly in absence of the pressure on his cock.

“You asshole,” he cried, with just a bit of bite to it. Eliot grabbed him by the arm, hard enough to leave a bruise, and flipped Q over onto his stomach. He climbed on top of him and spread Quentin’s legs apart with his knees as he settled in between his thighs, his cock nestled in the cleft of his ass. He pressed his body fully onto Quentin, skin against hot skin, as he brushed Q’s hair away from his neck. He breathed warm puffs of air onto the exposed skin, his breath coming rapidly as Quentin stilled underneath him. He moved up along Quentin’s neck, _barely_ brushing his lips against the sweat-slick skin. He stopped when he reached his ear, pressing his lips close to whisper, dark and dirty and fucking _angrily_ sexy, “ _Fucking brat_.”

Quentin began shaking under the weight of Eliot pressed against him. He managed to move his head just slightly enough to whisper, heated and desperate toward the ungodly sexy man hovering above him, “Don’t be gentle.”

Eliot performed the familiar lube spell to slick his hand and began stroking himself, lifting off of Quentin slightly while spreading out his palm over Quentin’s shoulder blades to keep him in place. He teased a slick finger down the crack of Quentin’s ass and began rubbing little circles over his hole. Quentin let out a loud, “yes,” as he tried to stop himself from humping the bed. Eliot forced a slippery finger into him and Q arched his back, throwing his head back in pure bliss. Quentin was still pliant and open from last night. Eliot sat back onto the backs of Quentin’s thighs and grabbed Q’s hands, pulling them back to his ass.

“Spread yourself open for me and hold still,” this time decidedly a direct order, and Quentin reeled at Eliot’s sharp tone. He immediately obeyed, grabbing his cheeks and spreading them apart, exposing himself to Eliot who was stroking his hard cock with strong, slick hands and looking down at Q like the delectable meal he was about to become.

“Jesus, Q, you’re so fucking pretty. God, your sweet little hole, I just want to eat you out for hours, Q.” Eliot just spewed forth complete _filth_ while he stroked himself, telling Quentin about all the things he was going to do to him, knowing full well it was driving Q crazy. Quentin tried to hold still as he had been told but began sobbing and moaning into the pillows as he listened to Eliot spread all his fantasies out for him.

Finally, Eliot couldn’t resist any longer and plunged his face down into Quentin’s ass, licking into his tight little hole and making Quentin scream. Eliot moaned as he thrust his tongue inside of him over and over, circling and pulling and stretching him out even more. Quentin was so vocal and it spurred Eliot on, their moans and cries mingling together, Quentin’s muffled into the pillow and Eliot’s muffled into Quentin’s ass. Eliot ate him out for a good solid 15 minutes, until Q was trembling and sobbing, hard and dripping. Eliot finally came up and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand as he lined himself up. He pressed his hard cock up against Q’s hole, wet and open for him, Q _begging_ him for it in muffled groans and pleas mumbled into the mattress. Quentin was still spreading himself apart for Eliot, and El had to slam his eyes shut momentarily to avoid becoming overwhelmed by the sight of him.

Eliot pet his hand slowly over Quentin’s ass and pressed his cock in, feeling the give of the tight muscle as he slid inside slowly. Quentin tried to push back on him, to take him in completely, but he was stuck in a position that didn’t allow him much movement. “Please, El,” he begged. “I said don’t be gentle. Please, Daddy.”

Eliot didn’t hesitate, but thrust into him, burying himself until his hips were pressed flush into Quentin’s ass. Quentin screamed as he was shoved forward, nearly hitting his head on the headboard. “Let go of your ass,” Eliot commanded. “Brace yourself on the headboard. Because this is going to be _soooo_ not gentle.”

Quentin couldn’t obey fast enough as his hands flew up to push against the headboard, just in time for Eliot to slam into him again, pushing out a low groan from the pit of Quentin’s stomach. Quentin steeled his arms over his head, preparing for the next impact. Eliot thrust forward into Quentin again and again. Quentin spread his legs apart even further, encouraging Eliot to go even deeper, which didn’t seem possible. Eliot was fucking huge and Quentin had never felt so full. He felt like he was being split in two, and loving every pleasurably painful moment of it. Quentin thought Eliot had fucked him hard last night, but that was _nothing_ compared to this. Eliot clamped his hands onto Quentin’s hands holding the headboard, leveraging himself at a better angle to… _oh, gods yes, right fucking there Eliot, Jesus_. Eliot’s cock grazed Quentin’s prostate on each trust, sending lightning bolts of pleasure throughout his body like Quentin had never felt before. Their muscles strained together, Quentin working to keep himself pressed back into Eliot, and Eliot working to thrust himself forward into this tight little ass that was just so, _so_ wanting and perfect. Sweat dripped off of them both as their breath came faster and harder. Each time Eliot slammed into Quentin, Q let out an _obscene_ scream that shook the entire room.

Quentin was close. His position on his stomach allowed for his dick to rub against the bed, and coupled with Eliot rubbing against his prostate with every push, Q felt like he was about to explode. He didn’t want this to end, but he tried to comply with Eliot’s wishes and let him take the lead. “Eliot,” he gasped, “El…I’m close…I’m…” Quentin couldn’t find any more words than that. Eliot stopped and pulled out immediately, which made Quentin cry from the loss.

“Turn over,” Eliot ordered. Quentin’s arms ached as he tried to lower them enough to flip himself onto his back. Eliot gave him a little help, then pushed Qs hips into the mattress as he lowered himself down to swallow his cock.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Quentin shouted as Eliot sucked hard and took him all the way down, pushing the head of Q’s cock into the back of his throat. El lubed up three fingers and pushed them inside of Quentin, fucking into him hard and fast as he bobbed up and down like a wave on Q’s cock. Quentin pushed out a guttural groan and opened his thighs wider, holding on to his knees to give Eliot better access. Eliot took the hint and added another finger beside the others, feeling the stretch of that tight, wet heat around his slick fingers. Quentin pressed his knees closer to his shoulders and Eliot about lost his mind.

“ _Holy cocksucking mother of Christ, Q,_ ” Eliot said quietly as he popped off of Quentin’s cock. “ _Jesus_ I’ve got four fucking fingers in there, baby, oh my god…”

Quentin was _gone_. Sweat poured off of him as he lay there, folded in half, being shoved up into the headboard as Eliot slammed his fingers into him.

“Please, El,” Q whimpered. “ _Daddy…please…_ ”

Eliot took pity on him and caressed his cheek. “It’s ok, baby. You can come. Daddy’s gonna suck you and let you come in my mouth, ok? Come on, sweet baby Q. Come for Daddy. Let Daddy taste you.” El wrapped his lips around the head of Quentin’s cock once more and sucked _hard_ as Q bucked up into his mouth. El moaned around Q’s cock as he fucked his fingers into him harder and faster until he felt Q tense up around him. Quentin came with a scream that probably woke the neighbors, crying, “Eliot! Eliot!” over and over for what seemed like the longest orgasm he had ever had. Eliot felt his release hit the back of his throat and swallowed down every drop, sucking until Q shivered from the sensitivity and pushed him away. Eliot gently pulled his wet fingers out as Quentin dropped his legs open.

“El,” he panted, trying to catch his breath. “El, _god_ , I w…I want…” He let his head flop over to the side. Eliot looked up at him in wonder of this amazingly perfect boy before him.

“What do you want, baby?” He asked gently.

Q pried his heavy eyes open and looked down at Eliot. “I want…I want to watch you, El. I can’t…I can’t move,” he laughed, “but I want to watch you get yourself off. Please. Let me watch you. Come up here,” he said, motioning to his shoulder.

Eliot obliged and knelt down near Quentin’s shoulder.

“Touch yourself,” Q instructed. “Please, El. I want to see you.”

Eliot began stroking his cock, which was painfully hard. It wouldn’t take him long.

“Shit, El,” said Q, breathless. Eliot began to speed up his strokes, staring intently down into Quentin’s eyes.

Quentin panted as he watched, hunger resuming in his dark eyes. “El. I…I want you to come on my face. Please, El. I want to taste you. I want to feel you…” Quentin tilted his head back and opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue and closing his eyes.

“Oh shit, Q!” Eliot cried as he came, moaning as hot streaks of cum shot out across Quentin’s face – striping across his cheeks and his lips and his tongue. Quentin closed his mouth and swallowed, licking the cum off of his lips as he opened his eyes to stare seductively at Eliot. Eliot’s jaw was frozen open as Quentin held his gaze steady and reached a finger up to swipe some cum off of his cheek and suck it off of his finger. He repeated the action over and over, each time closing his eyes, sucking his fingers clean, and moaning like he was about to come all over again. Eliot stopped Quentin’s hand as he was about to clean up the last little bit. Panting hard, he leaned down and licked the final spot of cum off Quentin’s cheek. He then pressed a filthy, open-mouthed kiss into Quentin’s mouth, allowing him to lick Eliot’s cum off of his tongue before pulling back and sitting on his heels, looking absolutely dumbfounded.

“Q, I can’t… _fuck_ , I c…I-I-I can’t.” Eliot managed to stutter out before flopping himself down on the bed next to Quentin. Quentin looked over at Eliot and smiled, grasping his hand gently and just holding it. Eliot looked over at Quentin, this beautiful, amazing boy, and his heart skipped four beats. They lay there for what seemed like an eternity, holding hands and staring, exhausted, utterly spent, and entirely fucking head-over-heels out of their minds for each other.


	8. Don't Worry, Be Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast turns into breakdown as Eliot starts thinking and feeling. Q is the hero we all deserve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no smut in this (shocking, I know) but lots of feels and tumultuous inner monologue. Quentin is naked, if that helps.

Breakfast consisted of an assortment of day-old bagels and cream cheese, along with some prepackaged donuts. _Apparently Quentin likes to carb-load when he’s stressed,_ thought Eliot. _Noted._ Quentin had nodded off shortly after their morning sexcapades and Eliot had laid there in bed next to him, arm folded underneath his head of messy curls, just staring for what seemed like an inordinately creepy length of time. God, this man was so gorgeous. Eliot made a mental note of every line, every freckle. The always-slightly-furrowed prominence of his worrisome brow, the sharp slope of his upturned nose, the way he carried just a tiny bit of puffiness under his angled jaw that made that part especially kissable…Eliot wanted to memorize each and every detail, as if he might suddenly disappear. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that Quentin – that this entire situation – was truly real. This unbelievable man was lying in bed with him, soft and strong, deliciously well-fucked and so, _so_ pretty. And even more than that, Quentin was _his_.

And there it was: That old sinking feeling he got in his stomach every time something good began to happen in his life. That voice that told him it would all come crashing down. _This won’t last,_ it said. _You’re a damn fool,_ it taunted. _You’ll fuck it up, as usual_. It happened so frequently that Eliot almost had an immediate negative reaction to anything that seemed like a “good thing” – something he had convinced himself deep down that he didn’t deserve. It was so easy for him to run. Just put up the wall of _Eliot_ he had crafted so precisely for just such occasions. Hide behind the haughtiness and hedonism. Dismiss the feeling and drown it in alcohol and meaningless sex. It was a reflex.

The thing about Q though was that…Eliot’s reflexes didn’t work quite the same way around him. Eliot felt…relaxed around Q. No, that wasn’t quite the word. It was as though…as though he didn’t have to worry. Like he didn’t have to rely on his reflexes. No flight or fight required. It wasn’t necessarily an absence of tension, but even when he was tense it was like…he knew he would still be ok. He felt…

Safe.

And safety was…weird to Eliot. It was new. He didn’t quite know what to do with it but he knew he liked it. With “safe” he didn’t necessarily resort to his reflexes. “Safe” gave him pause. “Safe” gave him a chance – even a split second – to notice what was about to happen before it happened – and to do something about it. “Safe” let him make choices, instead of his body making choices for him. Which was nice, in theory, but choices were hard for him. At least, choices for himself. Oh sure, he could make choices for someone else all day long. He could Dom the _shit_ out of cute little subby-Q, tell him what to do and how to do it, and never bat an eye. But making choices for himself – what was _that_ like? He was so used to the instinct – to the reflex – he might have forgotten how to apply that same strong, confident, in-control attitude to himself. That’s what ultimately terrified him: _What the fuck am I supposed to do with “safe”?_

So he did what he knew would help – distraction. Maybe one day he would be emotionally stable enough to sit with his emotions and feel _all_ of them while making sense of them, but until then…well…baby steps, right? So he decided to busy himself. He slowly rolled out of bed, careful not to wake the sleepy little puddle of Quentin in the middle of it, and took a quick shower. After making his way over to the single-serving hotel coffee pot and brewing a cup for himself, he set another cup to brew for Q while rustling through the piles of food on the counter looking for some kind of breakfast fodder. He found the bagels, the donuts, and the cream cheese he had put in the mini-fridge last night. Quentin’s coffee finished brewing and Eliot doubled up on the creamer and sugar packets for him, placing it down on the small nightstand next to the bed. In a perfect world, Eliot’s first “morning after” breakfast with Q would have consisted of Quentin groggily loping down the stairs, all sleepy eyelids and beadhead, to the sight of Eliot in the kitchen, gloriously put together and finishing off a spectacular omelet with pancetta and goat cheese, crimini mushrooms and spinach, topped with crème fraische and parsley. Eliot would serve Quentin his omelet with a side of fresh melon as he made coffee with the French press, fawning over Quentin’s every need and being just entirely too cheerful about all of it.

But the reality was, the smell of barely-drinkable hotel coffee was wafting through the musty room as Quentin began to stir. He slowly opened his eyes underneath stringy, tangled locks and glanced up at Eliot, giving him the sweetest, drowsiest, most sincere smile that made Eliot completely melt into the shitty hotel carpet.

Eliot smiled back. “I made you coffee – if you want to call it that,” he added, motioning to the cup next to the bed.

Quentin looked honestly a little shocked. “That’s…really nice of you. Thanks, El,” he said softly, still trying to wake up completely.

“Guess I done wore ya out, huh?” Joked Eliot as Q took a tentative sip of his “coffee”. “So like, isn’t that basically just coffee-flavored sugar-milk?” Eliot loved to tease Q about how much “extra shit” he put into his coffee.

“Listen, asshole,” shot Q, “you’re the one who made it for me.”

“Only because I know that’s how you like it,” replied Eliot. “And I didn’t want to hear you bitch about it,” he winked.

Quentin just shook his head. “It’s too fucking early for this,” he muttered with a shy smile as he sat up and swung his legs out of bed. Eliot smirked and eyed Quentin up and down as he stood up, naked and heavenly, and stumbled over to Eliot for a soft but thorough kiss.

“Good morning,” he whispered as he pulled away.

“Mmm, good morning, cutie,” Eliot hummed with a wide grin. God he was so far gone on this man.

Quentin rested his hands on Eliot’s hips momentarily before squeezing them gently. “I’m gonna hop in the shower,” he said, holding eye contact with El suggestively as he backed away and shuffled into the bathroom. Eliot watched him disappear past the squeaky door and let out the breath of air that he had apparently been holding in. It seemed obvious that Quentin was asking him to join him in the shower, but Eliot honestly needed some time to process…everything. It was all so, so much. Eliot’s brain cells were going haywire. He couldn’t get the image of Quentin’s suggestive stare out of his mind. This beautiful, _beautiful_ man…staring at him, at _Eliot_ , like he was just so… _wanted_. Needed. Eliot was used to people staring at him like they wanted him. But Quentin…Quentin stared at him like he was the only good thing on this Earth. And Eliot just wanted to stare back. It pained him to stop looking. Q was this gorgeous, rare work of art that few people ever got to behold in person and Eliot was standing right in front of it, wanting to memorize every detail in case it was his last opportunity. He felt _consumed_ by Quentin. His skin _ached_ when he wasn’t touching him. His body longed for the pressure of Quentin’s limbs tangled up with his. His head was spinning. How was this real? He wasn’t panicking…he wasn’t panicking…

Oh _fucking balls_ he was fucking panicking.

_Don’t run. Don’t run. Don’t run._

He chanted to himself as he stood there, willing his feet to stay put. Willing his mouth not to open and fuck it all up. After a few moments he realized he was rocking slightly, his body taking it upon itself to try and soothe him. He wouldn’t run. He wouldn’t run. He wouldn’t run.

Instead, he collapsed. Suddenly his legs gave out and he plopped to the floor, hands out in front to catch himself. He stayed there for a moment, on his hands and knees, sitting back onto his heels slightly and just…breathing. Quickly. _Slow down, Eliot. Slow. Down._ He took a deep breath, 1…2…3…, held it, 1…2…3…4…, let it out, 1…2…3…In again…hold…out…in…hold…out…gods he wished Margo was here. He needed his Bambi. He needed a drink. He needed…fuck…ok…in….hold……….out……

He relaxed a little and rested on his hip, hands still in front of him on the floor, a desperate attempt to steady himself despite the fact that his head wouldn’t stop spinning. _Get a grip, get a grip, motherfucker._ He tried to think, but the thoughts just fluttered through. So fast, so goddamned fast. _Quentin. Sex. Quentin. Quarantine. Feelings. Quentin. Fear. Shame. Quentin. Worthless. Stupid. Relationship. Quentin. Trapped. Vulnerable. Pain. Magic. Quentin. Beauty. Good. Fucking. Quentin. Quentin. Quentin. Shit_ …

A loud squeak shook him out of the barrage of thoughts pelting his brain. Quentin stepped out of the bathroom, naked, perfect, drying his hair with a towel, not having looked at Eliot yet but coming in mouth-first. “I thought you might have joined me in there…” he said, laughing slightly as he took the towel off his head. He stopped suddenly when he saw Eliot sitting on the floor, pale and shaking.

“El?! Oh my god, El, are you ok?” He rushed over and sat on the floor in front of him. “El, baby, what happened? What’s wrong?”

 _Baby_. Jesus, Eliot didn’t deserve this man. Didn’t deserve to be called “baby” by anyone, much less _him_ , this stunning, perfect…

“Q.” That was all Eliot could get out. Warm drops began to drip onto Eliot’s hands, slowly at first, then faster as Eliot realized they were coming from him. Tears streamed down his cheeks and ran into the corners of his mouth, salty and much too real. This was all about to come crashing down on him. He was having a literal panic attack over _feelings_. _What a fucking loser._ Quentin would see. He would see how entirely ridiculous Eliot was – how incapable he was of handling _anything_ , even something as completely normal as a relationship with someone he cares about. He would see how fucking pathetic he was. How worthless, weak, self-centered, and utterly broken he truly was. There’s no way in hell he would stick around for that. Eliot had fucked it all up just by _worrying_ about fucking it all up…

Quentin wrapped his arms around Eliot and pulled him into his chest. Eliot sobbed and let himself fall into the embrace, helpless and too dejected to put forth the effort to stop him, despite that fact that he felt even more like shit because of it. Quentin squeezed him harder and settled him into his lap. Eliot’s arms reached around Quentin’s waist as he collapsed into him. He curled his knees up into his chest and laid there, melted and sobbing in Quentin’s lap. Q held him as he cried, gently petting over his head and rubbing slow circles into his back. Eliot let it flood out, knowing full well how much he would regret it – how guilty he would feel afterward for making Quentin bear the brunt of his own self-loathing. But for now…for now it was all he could do. He let the flood gates open and just poured himself out on the floor of a dirty hotel carpet, in the arms of the most precious, glorious creature he had even known, pushing aside, if only for a moment, the conviction that he could never deserve it.

And Quentin…Quentin was so _good_. So perfect. Eliot knew he must have been scared, having no idea what was going on in Eliot’s head. But Q didn’t ask. He didn’t freak out. He didn’t probe for information. He just held him and let him fall apart. Waiting…waiting…

Eliot’s sobs began to grow softer and less frequent. Bit by bit his breathing became slower and shallower until his sobs turned into occasional sniffs and shaky inhalations, signaling that he was beginning to regain some control. Eliot opened his eyes and blinked back the moisture that was left in them, feeling strangely grounded by the tears growing cold on his eyelashes and drying on his cheekbones. He rotated his head to rest his disheveled curls on Quentin’s thigh as he sighed and looked up at Quentin’s face for the first time. Q just stared down at him, _so fond_ and _caring_ and with so much _lo…endearment_ …that was…yeah, that was it…Eliot tried to hold his gaze for more than a few seconds but had to flick his eyes away after a moment because it was just so overwhelming.

“Hey,” said a soft Quentin voice, smiling gently. “El, baby look at me.”

Eliot forced his eyes back to meet Quentin’s and visibly melted into his lap as he did so. God, how could one glance from this boy put him so much at ease? And how had he not realized this sooner?

“Hey there,” sighed Q, letting the backs of his knuckles graze gently over Eliot’s stubble. Eliot instinctively turned his head into the touch to brush his lips against Q’s hand, absently mouthing the knuckles of his fingers, anchoring himself to Quentin in any way he could.

“So,” Q chuckled lightly, “as much as I’ve enjoyed you sitting here crying on my dick…” _shit, yeah, Q was still very naked and Eliot had unleashed a deluge of tears directly into his lap…_ “I think it might be a little more comfortable to have your meltdown on the bed, yeah?” Quentin’s voice was _so_ kind and calm, and it grounded Eliot instantly. He glanced up through soggy eyelashes and nodded slowly, huffing out the _slightest_ of giggles through the best attempt at a smirk he could muster. Quentin tapped his head lightly, signaling for him to sit up. Eliot pushed himself upright as Quentin stood and offered him his hand. Eliot took it, gratefully, and shakily pulled himself onto his feet. With one steadying hand on Eliot’s back and another on his shoulder, Quentin guided him to the bed. Eliot sat down on the edge as Quentin crawled under the blankets on the other side. Q propped up the pillows behind them and pulled Eliot down to lie next to him. They lay there for a few minutes, facing each other in silence as Quentin traced soothing patterns up and down Eliot’s arm.

Eliot cleared his throat and made himself look into Quentin’s eyes. Q pressed his lips together in a tight smile, trying his best at “nonthreatening” but coming across more along the lines of “coworkers passing each other in the hallway”. Eliot tried his best to find his voice and began with a croaky, “I’m sorry, Q.”

Quentin spat out an incredulous laugh. “What?! Why? Oh my god, El. Don’t be sorry, please. I just want to make sure you’re ok.”

Eliot _tried_ not to start crying again, he really did. “Q, please, I…I don’t want…you shouldn’t have to do this. You shouldn’t have to deal with my breakdown. This isn’t…it’s not…what you…”

“What I what, El?” Quentin prompted. “What I signed up for? What I expected? El, I _have_ met you. I know what I signed up for.”

Eliot wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse. Perhaps a little of both.

“Q, I just…I don’t even know what happened. I just started thinking about everything…good and bad…and just got overwhelmed I guess.” He let his eyes drop down to the bed.

“Hey, wait…no…” Quentin put his hand under Eliot’s chin and lifted his face back up so he was looking at Quentin again. “El, I don’t…I don’t like this…”

Eliot’s heart sank. This was it…this was Q saying he was out. He couldn’t handle Eliot like this.

“I don’t like you feeling bad about yourself, El. Please. It’s me, baby. Tell me what it is, really. Tell me what scared you… _Eliot_ …” god, his name hung on Quentin’s lips like the sweetest prayer; like a plea to all that was holy to just… _surrender_ …

And _fuck_ if Eliot didn’t just completely disintegrate at the sound. “How…how do you even exist, Q? How the fuck am I really here right now?” Eliot’s eyes began to fill again. He pushed the tears back and focused on the feelings of Quentin’s fingertips on his skin, so gentle but so strong and sure. So secure.

“I don’t deserve you, Q. I don’t deserve any of this. And…and I _know_ , from experience, that I am one-hundred percent definitely going to fuck this up. I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you. I’m _really_ good at hurting people, Q. And I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt you…”

“El…” Quentin’s voice was soft, but stern. “Listen to me.” Quentin stared into Eliot’s eyes until he was sure El had focused entirely.

“El. You’re right.”

_The fuck?_

“You don’t deserve me,” he said, a little too matter-of-fact for El’s liking but…I mean yeah, he wasn’t wrong…

“And I don’t deserve _you_ , El.”

_Wait…_

“And we both kind of suck and have done some shady shit and don’t _deserve_ whatever made-up, highly-unrealistic, idol-istic version of perfection we’ve created for each other in our own _insanely irrational and emotional brains_ right now. Because we’re fucking _smitten_ over each other at the moment and whatever image we’ve carved out in our minds about what the other one is actually like is complete _bullshit_.”

Well. Fuck.

“We aren’t perfect, El. But we’re both fucking scared as shit because this is something new and exciting and we’ve both been disappointed countless times so naturally, we’re gonna want to blow it out of proportion and self-sabotage. Trust me, I’m, like, _really_ good at it. I know what that looks like. And like, _fuck_ , El, you have always been way out of my goddamn league and you fucking know it. But here we are, jumping into this head first and yeah it’s fucking terrifying. And I know you. I know you want to run. I know you don’t think you’re worth it and that you don’t deserve to be happy…”

_Oh fucking hell, Quentin, this is not helping me reach the whole Quentin-is-not-perfect stage…_

“But you _do_ , El. You deserve a little _actual_ happiness in your life. And if it makes you feel any better, I will demonstrate soon enough, beyond a shadow of a doubt, how excruciatingly imperfect I am and you will probably doubt _all_ of your life choices all over again so…I mean there’s that to look forward to…” Quentin gave a little smirk as he grabbed Eliot’s hand and wove their fingers together.

“But I mean, seriously, El. You don’t need to run from this. I am well aware of what I’m getting myself into and I _choose_ to do it anyway. I’m _choosing_ you, and I’m _trusting_ you to choose me as well. I know neither of us can promise anything other than that right now but…will you at least give me that? _Baby…_ ”

_How the fuck do you even argue with any of that?_

Eliot blinked back the tears again as he licked his lips and took three deep breaths. God, he wanted to be brave for Quentin so badly. He had to…he had to at least fucking try…

“Ok,” Eliot managed to squeak out. He cleared his throat and tried desperately to put on his big-boy voice and try again. “Ok, Q. God I still can’t even process how good this is but…yes. I’m choosing you. Whatever the fuck that means I’m…I’m all in. No running away. No unrealistic expectations – even though, I mean, you _are_ pretty goddamned perfect, you know – but ok, I will… _entertain_ the idea that you _may_ have some flaws that could eventually reveal themselves…”

Quentin shrugged and shot a “well-that’s-better-than-nothing” smirk off to the side as he rolled his eyes fondly back up at Eliot, a soft smile breaking over his face.

“I guess that’s as good as I’m gonna get,” Quentin joked. Eliot bit his lip and smiled back. _This boy…_

“Deal with it, bitch,” chuckled Eliot, giving Quentin’s hand a squeeze.

They both sighed.

Eliot pulled Quentin into his chest and held on for dear life. “Well, hopefully you won’t have too many of my breakdowns to deal with in the future.”

Quentin tightened his grip around him, pulling him impossibly closer. “I mean wait ‘til you see what I’ve got in store for _you_. My breakdowns will put yours to _shame_ , so…bring it, Waugh.”

“Come at me, Coldwater,” Eliot grinned, “I am _so_ ready for this. But first…” Eliot pushed Quentin away slightly and quickly rolled off the bed. Quentin propped himself up on one elbow, looking at him curiously as El rounded the bed. When he reached Quentin he bent down and scooped him up in his arms. Quentin’s hands flailed as he threw them around Eliot’s neck to hold on.

“Shit! El what the…” Eliot cradled Quentin in his arms and staggered over to the table where he had been preparing their delightfully basic breakfast of bagels and store-bought donuts. He set Quentin down in the stiff, fake leather armchair, then turned to grab a paper plate with a bagel and two crumbly donuts on it. He set them in front of Q and ran to grab his (now cold) coffee, throwing it into the microwave with a dramatic flourish.

“Your breakfast, my Lord,” stated Eliot as he made a low bow.

Quentin raised an eyebrow and let out a soft laugh. “Ooooh… ‘my Lord’, huh? I could…maybe get used to that…” he said, biting his lip seductively.

Eliot grinned widely as he straightened up. “Oh really…” he mused, “Hmm…so our little Q is a switch, perhaps…”

Quentin darted hungry eyes toward Eliot as he served Quentin his coffee. “You never know. I just may surprise you.”

Eliot looked down at Quentin with a haughty, sensual look in his eye. “Quentin Makepeace Coldwater, you have done nothing _but_ surprise me over the last 24 hours.”


	9. My Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin and Eliot explore some new sides of themselves.
> 
> Because switch happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient with me. Life has been crazy hectic and out of control. I will try to be more consistent (ha, famous last words). Some short and sweet smut to tide us over, yeah? I hope everyone is doing ok in quarantine. Stay safe!
> 
> CW: D/s power play.

“Yeah…Mmmhmm…I know…Yes. I know, dad…Yes, you did.” Quentin rolled his eyes as Eliot stepped in from the sliding glass door leading out to a shoebox of a balcony, a whiff of smoke trailing behind him.

“I _know_ you told me so, dad…ok you don’t have to rub it in.” Eliot covered his mouth with his hand to stifle a laugh. “Thanks, I am…I wha… _Dad!_ What the…” Quentin turned slightly away from Eliot and lowered his voice, “Dad they…yeah, there’s a spell for that, Dad, don’t worry, we’re being safe…” A blush crept up on Quentin’s face as Eliot’s eyebrows shot up and his smile broadened. Quentin glanced back at Eliot with widened eyes and huffed out a slight chuckle. “Yes, I…thanks, Dad, I know…Yes, I know you’re just concerned but I’m fine, Dad, I’m…I’m _really_ good, actually. Ok, yeah we’ll – I – we’ll keep you posted…ok. Yeah…I love you too, Dad…Bye.”

Quentin tossed the phone a few feet away from him and flopped face-down into the bed, shaking his head. Eliot finally couldn’t hold in his laughter.

“Was…was your dad asking you if we were using protection?” Eliot giggled.

“Yrfff,” came a muffled reply into the mattress from an embarrassed Quentin. Eliot took that to mean _yes_.

“Oh my god,” Eliot smiled as he sat down beside Q.

“Hrth mm frkmg mmth,” mumbled Q.

Eliot reached over and gently, but deliberately, grabbed a handful of hair at the nape of Q’s neck and pulled slightly, which made Q lift his head obediently and meet Eliot’s smiling expression.

“Couldn’t make that one out, Q, sorry. Come again?” Eliot said gently.

Quentin relaxed as the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “I said he’s a fucking mess,” he answered, leaning into Eliot’s soft but strong touch and nuzzling the back of his head against El’s hand. Eliot responded by cradling the nape of Quentin’s neck as he slid down to sit on the floor next to the bed. He leaned their foreheads together for a moment before putting the slightest of pressure on Q’s neck, urging him forward for a sweet kiss.

“I see where you get it from,” teased Eliot with a wink.

“Dick,” Quentin bite back with a wide grin.

“Only if you ask nicely,” Eliot crooned in a deep, low voice.

Quentin bit his lower lip thoughtfully as he stared at Eliot’s lips. After a few seconds, he flicked his eyes up to Eliot’s and said, nonchalantly, “Well, I mean, if I have to put effort into it then forget it.”

Quentin pushed himself up to his hands and knees to start crawling off the bed.

“Oh like hell,” said Eliot as he tackled him back down. The two of them wrestled for dominance for a few minutes until Quentin got the upper hand and flipped Eliot over onto his back, pinning his arms over his head and straddling his chest. Eliot looked surprised but…not unpleased. He stopped struggling and raised his eyebrows up a bit, pondering his next move. His eyes narrowed. “I see you have the upper hand, sir,” he smiled.

Quentin’s eye darkened at that last syllable. “Yeah,” he replied, a bit breathy. Something stirred low in his stomach, a fluttering of excitement as the potential of this situation dawned on him. Quentin’s expression hardened. “Sure fucking do, don’t I?”

Eliot’s pupils were blown almost completely black as he sank into the bed under the weight of Quentin on his chest. Ok so this was…new. This…must be that “I might surprise you” Quentin was talking about. And Eliot…liked it. He considered for a moment how this might go, then decided to resign himself to letting Q take over. As much as Eliot liked having control, it was pretty difficult to beat a horny Quentin sitting on his chest. It was getting a little difficult to breathe but it wasn’t terrible yet. Settling into his apparent role, he decided to suffer through it for the moment and see where Q would take this.

Quentin looked down at him hungrily, then surged down to kiss Eliot, hard and rough, forcing his lips open with his tongue and fucking into his mouth possessively. Eliot whined in pleasure and surprise as he let Quentin take advantage of the situation. Quentin suddenly came up for air and held himself up, just millimeters away from Eliot’s face, swollen, red, and panting. “Red-Yellow-Green, Baby?” He asked.

“Green,” replied Eliot. Quentin cocked his head and raised his eyebrows, giving Eliot his best “excuse me” mom-look. Eliot cleared his throat. “Green…sir…” he corrected himself.

Quentin smiled at that and gave Eliot a gentle peck on the lips. Eliot chased his lips as he pulled away, then wriggled underneath him. He was beginning to struggle for breath by now and looked at Q with pleading eyes.

“What do you need, baby?” ask Quentin gentle.

Eliot swallowed. “It’s…difficult to breathe…sir…” he explained.

Quentin looked down at Eliot’s chest heaving up and down and slowly slid off on the bed. Eliot didn’t move, but looked relieved. He turned his head and looked at Quentin.

“Q?” He said quietly.

“Yes?” Quentin answered.

Eliot found Quentin’s eyes and held them. “Tell me what you want me to do, _sir_ ,” Eliot whispered seductively.

 _Fuck,_ thought Q, _Ok yes, I am definitely into this…_

Quentin felt his dick growing hard as he thought about all the things he could make Eliot do. He could lie back and make Eliot focus on Quentin’s pleasure, touching him in all the right ways until he made him come. He could make Eliot lie back and do whatever he wanted to him – take his time and make Eliot scream his name over and over. He could…

“Get up here,” Quentin ordered, motioning to the pillow beside him. Eliot scrambled to do as he was told and put his head on the pillow, stretching his long body out along the length of the bed. Quentin began undressing himself as he ordered Eliot to do the same. Quentin performed a few quick tuts to clean them both up then crawled up to kneel next to Eliot’s shoulders. He stroked his hands gently through Eliot’s hair a few times before grabbing a handful roughly and tilting Eliot’s head up so that he could kiss him, deep and filthy and delicious.

“I want you to eat me out while I suck you,” he said. Eliot’s dick twitched as he nodded frantically.

“Yes. Yes, sir,” Eliot added as Quentin turned around to lie face down along Eliot’s torso, straddling his face. Eliot was half-hard and Quentin sucked his cock into his mouth immediately. He loved the feeling of it getting hard in his mouth – of knowing that _he_ was doing that to Eliot. He moaned around him as Eliot grew bigger and harder in his mouth. Quentin groaned at the feeling of his mouth stretching around Eliot’s cock, heavy on his tongue. The sharp, musky smell of him as he took him all the way down, feeling his thick head hit the back of his throat. He pushed Eliot’s legs apart and played with his balls gently, occasionally grazing a finger or two between his cheeks and over his hole, which fluttered against them and was always accompanied by a high-pitched “ah” underneath him.

Eliot melted into the feeling of Quentin’s warm mouth around his cock as it grew harder with each suck – each stroke of his tongue and drag of his lips up and down his shaft. He took a breath and composed himself so he could concentrate on the task he had been given. He wrapped his arms around Quentin’s thighs, spread so beautifully over Eliot’s shoulders. He nuzzled his nose up against his balls which were – Jesus just hanging so deliciously in front of him as Quentin held himself up slightly. Eliot reached his hands around to spread his cheeks apart, then buried his face in his ass as he hugged his body closer into him. He swiped the flat of his tongue against Quentin’s hole and held him tightly as he jumped and arched his back. Eliot wiggled the tip of his tongue at Quentin’s entrance, smiling proudly as Q pressed back, chasing the sensation with his hips. Quentin sucked on Eliot’s dick even harder and El responded by thrusting his tongue inside him, getting him slick and open, feeling his hole flutter and pulse against his mouth, begging for more. Quentin moaned and writhed in Eliot’s arms as Eliot fought to hold still – to be good – through the immense pleasure building within him as Quentin gave him the most thorough blow job of his life. Quentin wore confidence _very_ well, and the enthusiasm and…downright _swagger_ that was fueling Quentin as his sucked Eliot off was…absolutely mind-blowing.

They worked each other together, back and forth, spurring each other on for what seemed like hours. Quentin held on as long as he could until finally he came up and rolled off of Eliot onto the bed. Eliot looked – _gods_ he looked absolutely fucking _destroyed_. Lips red and swollen, glistening with spit, hair disheveled and reckless, pupils blown wide and wanting. Quentin lied down to catch his breath for a moment. Eliot didn’t move, but looked at Q, awaiting instruction. Once Quentin had regained his composure, he sat up and stroked his hand along Eliot’s stomach. Eliot’s lean muscles twitched with the slight tickle of the touch as Q trailed his hand up and over Eliot’s chest, caressing a nipple along the way and making Eliot shudder.

“Oh,” uttered Q, lazily, “you like that?”

Eliot nodded.

“Hmm. I see,” drawled Q. _Holy fuck Dom-Q is the sexiest motherfucker…_ Eliot tried to hold still. Quentin leaned down and took one of Eliot’s hard nipples into his mouth, sucking gently and flicking it with the tip of his tongue. Eliot arched up off the bed with a shout. Quentin pushed him forcefully back down with a strong hand in the center of his chest. Eliot squeezed his eyes shut and threw one arm over his face. His dick was throbbing, aching for touch. Quentin licked and sucked at Eliot’s nipple while holding him down on the bed. Eliot whined and sobbed, begging for relief.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Asked Quentin, teasingly. “Do you want to come?”

Eliot nodded his head tiredly, eyes still closed. He looked absolutely wrecked, and Quentin knew he couldn’t take much more.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it, baby? That’s what you need. You need to come? You gonna come for me, baby?” Quentin straddled one of Eliot’s legs, rubbing his own cock up against him as he went back to work on Eliot’s nipple. Eliot’s hips twitched upward as he tried to press into him, seeking friction. “Go ahead and touch yourself, baby. I want you to come for me,” Quentin breathed. Eliot’s hand flew to his cock and began stroking it in relief. He knew he wouldn’t take long, not with the river of dirty talk coming from Quentin’s perfect mouth. “I want to watch you get yourself off. Can you do that for me? Can you make yourself come for me, baby?” God Eliot was getting so close. Quentin babbled endlessly as he rutted against Eliot’s leg. “Let me…let me watch you, El. I wanna see you make a mess for me. I wanna… _fuck_ , I wanna…watch you stroke that hard cock for me. Fucking... _shit_ , baby come on. Come for me, El. Come all over yourself for me, sweetheart. You’re being such a _good boy_ for me, El.”

“God, Q, I’m…I’m so close,” Eliot panted. Quentin was riding his leg frantically as he spouted filthy things, pushing Eliot to the edge.

“Goddamnit, Eliot,” he said, his tone suddenly deeper and more intense. “ _I said, come_ for me. Do what you’re fucking told.”

 _Holy shit_ that sent Eliot completely over the edge. His whole body shook violently as he came. Long stripes of cum shot out across his stomach, some reaching all the way up to Quentin’s hair as he licked and sucked on Eliot’s hard pink nipples, making him shudder and shake with overwhelming sensation as he came down. The sight of Eliot’s hand on his own cock, stroking himself through his orgasm as cum shot up to his face was more than Quentin could take. He clamored up toward the headboard and straddled Eliot’s shoulders, his hard cock, slapping Eliot in the face as his eyes widened and he mumbled, “yes, _yes_ ,” as best as he could after the earth-shattering orgasm he had just had. Quentin grabbed a handful of hair on the top of Eliot’s head as he thrust his cock deep into Eliot’s mouth. Eliot moaned loudly around Quentin’s cock as Quentin used his hair as an anchor while he fucked Eliot’s mouth. Eliot made the most _gorgeous_ sounds that went right to Quentin’s dick as he thrusted into him harder and faster, chasing his own orgasm by fucking Eliot’s throat.

Quentin grabbed Eliot’s hand and pulled it roughly to his mouth, plunging two fingers into his mouth and sucking hard. He let them drop out of his mouth, dripping wet, as he gave Eliot a pointed look. Eliot reached up and grabbed Quentin’s ass, pulling it apart as he stretched a wet finger out and wiggled it against Quentin’s hole, still pliant and open from Eliot’s mouth earlier. He thrust his finger into Quentin’s ass as Q slammed harder into Eliot’s mouth. Quentin let out a loud cry as Eliot pushed another finger into him. “Oh fuck! Eliot!” Quentin screamed Eliot’s name as he came hard down Eliot’s throat, holding his head in place and clenching around Eliot’s fingers. Eliot’s eyes rolled back in his head as he felt warm spurts of cum flood his mouth. He swallowed it down as Quentin pulled back, twitching from oversensitivity. Eliot slowly slid his fingers out and cleaned up everything with a practiced tut.

Quentin crawled up to settle himself just above Eliot, cradling him in the crook of his shoulder and massaging his scalp where he had been pulling his hair. Eliot snuggled into him and Quentin felt his whole body relax into the touch. Eliot dragged his fingers lazily along Quentin’s stomach, running them through the soft hair on his chest. Quentin gently massaged Eliot’s jaw and pulled him in closer. He felt Eliot sigh softly as he pressed his face into Quentin’s chest and drifted off to sleep.


	10. Can't Help Falling in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys meet a neighbor. He's cute. They discuss.
> 
> They...might confess something big...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the boys have a discussion about feelings and the nature of their relationship in this one. Angst? Mmm...I'm gonna say, "no." Mild, momentary discomfort? Yes. But you know our boys, they're moderately socially maladjusted but surprisingly well-adjusted emotionally in this universe because I want them to be, damnit. I'm tired of seeing them fuck this up. So I'm the author and I gave them excellent communication and coping skills.
> 
> And yeah, this discussion is a big deal.
> 
> No sexytimes in this one, but lots of fluff. Pure crack. Indulge. :)

Eliot whispered something to the piece of folded paper in his hands just before stretching out his arms above him. The paper fluttered and began to flap what appeared to be wings. Suddenly it shot up into the air, unsteady at first while it found its bearings, then flew gracefully out of sight. Eliot watched it go with a slight frown and a worried brow. This was the fourth one he had sent, and none of them had yielded any word from Margo or the others. Eliot was running out of ideas.

Quentin quietly stepped up behind him and snaked his arms around Eliot’s waist. He turned his head and rested it on Eliot’s strong back, breathing in the scent of him deeply and letting his body relax against him. Eliot smoothed his palms over the backs of Quentin’s hands softly. He turned his head slightly to glance back at the mop of disheveled hair pressed against his shoulder.

“You make a pretty good big spoon, Coldwater,” Eliot said with a lazy smile. Quentin grinned into his shoulder blade as he squeezed him in even tighter. They stood like that for the longest time, just smiling and sighing and breathing and swaying in the morning air. The silence was nice. Eliot had never felt more comfortable being silent like this with anyone except maybe Margo. With Margo he had had his moments. Still, even the most deliberate and contented silence he had shared with her didn’t have such a…romantic feel to it. This felt like, Eliot wasn’t quite sure…like he was so damn _loved_ …

They’d been in quarantine for five days now. Eliot had been enjoying learning all about this pocket-sized little man – not just outward things that he had learned as a friend, like how he liked his coffee or what TV shows he watched – but smaller, intimate things. Where he liked to be touched and how (a light brush against that spot over his hip, or a gentle bite just below his ear); how long Q could sit on El’s lap before getting fidgety and having to move (approximately 7 minutes); when Quentin needed cuddles (virtually always) versus when he needed to be alone (whenever he tried to rebel against his sadness and accidentally turned it into anger). The depths of Quentin never ceased to amaze Eliot. Sometimes Q would glance over and catch Eliot smiling while watching him. Eliot would always brush it off and say something like, “You’re just so cute,” because, “Goddamnit, Q, I’m falling in love with you,” was not something he was ready to bring to the front of his mind just yet.

Quentin was learning about Eliot as well. He had learned that Eliot’s lap started to get bony after about 7 minutes. He had learned that Eliot secretly LOVED it when Quentin straddled him so that he was taller, looking down on him. Eliot liked looking up at someone, feeling small and protected and taken care of, but his height rarely afforded him the chance. Q made a note to do this whenever possible, especially when Eliot was feeling anxious. It calmed him. Quentin felt good when he was able to calm Eliot. He felt like an actual human capable of doing actual human things, which was rare for him. Most of the time, Quentin liked to be taken care of, but every now and then, being able to take care of someone else for a change healed wounds in him he didn’t even know were still bleeding.

Quentin also learned that he was falling hopelessly in love with Eliot. Unlike Eliot, Quentin embraced this with everything he had. He wasn’t afraid of it. In truth, he sometimes thought he was more afraid of _not_ having it. It was this fear that kept him from blurting it out every time they fucked – every time they said good night – every time they shared a moment at breakfast or stood on their tiny motel balcony spooning each other. Unlike Eliot, he wasn’t afraid of admitting that he was in love. He was afraid that he was wrong. He was afraid that he was mistaking lust plus friendship for love. He was afraid that he was just being dramatic – that he wasn’t actually in love and was just misreading his own emotions because he sucks at everything. So he kept quiet and pretended like he _wasn’t_ falling completely head over heels in love with his best friend and planning their life together in the shadowy parts of his brain.

It had only been five days. But five days stuck inside a shitty motel room with your best-friend-turned-boyfriend was fucking intense. It might as well have been fifty years. Quentin was amazed that he hadn’t completely gotten on Eliot’s nerves yet. Not that there hadn’t been moments. In truth, there was little to do except watch TV and fuck, and let’s be honest, TV got boring and muscles had their limits. Even Eliot ran out of stamina from time to time – especially since he had drastically underestimated how insatiable Quentin could be. Five days and Eliot was already getting a taste of just how physical Q really was. When Q bottomed, he was a needy little shit, and when Q topped, he was a possessive little fuck. Not that Eliot minded. They were honestly pretty well matched as far as physical affection went, but even so, Quentin never seemed like he had quite had enough. Whenever he _wasn’t_ touching Eliot, it seemed as though he was pining for him all over again. A sad little puppy sitting at the door waiting for his master to come home.

He _did_ make a really good big spoon though. Eliot sighed and relaxed back into Quentin’s small but surprisingly strong and compact body. Quentin tightened his arms around him slightly and the two stood in the eerily quiet atmosphere of a locked-down city. They swayed back and forth gently, dancing together to some silent tune shared between them. The only people in the whole goddamned world.

Eliot’s blissful trance was interrupted by the sound of a sliding glass door. He opened his eyes slowly and turned his head toward the source of the intrusion. Two rooms down from them, a man had stepped out onto his balcony and was lighting a cigarette. He was young, about Eliot’s age he guessed, short blonde hair, moderately hot, and wearing fairly new-looking blue pajama pants and a white t-shirt that was big enough to comfortably sleep in. He glanced around after a few minutes and waved at Eliot once he noticed he was there. Eliot gave him a courteous smile as Quentin squirmed against his back. Q lifted his head up slightly and craned his neck to see what had caught Eliot’s attention. The man waved again and smiled, letting out a “Hey, neighbors!”’ as Quentin raised his hand to return the wave.

“Morning,” replied Eliot, reaching his arms back to grip Quentin around the hips as he glanced back at him. The gesture _may_ have been a bit possessive which – well, he wasn’t sure if that was ok but they could talk about it later.

“Enjoying the you’d-better-staycation?” quipped the neighbor.

Eliot chuckled, “Immensely,” he answered, brushing a finger under Quentin’s chin and pulling him forward to a quick kiss.

The neighbor let out a laugh. “Well, at least you’ve got good company,” he said with…was that a wink? It might have been a wink. The man put his cigarette out on the rail and flicked it into a can on the ground.

“I’ll see ya around,” he nodded as he headed back inside.

“Later,” said Quentin with an awkward wave, almost as if he was still trying to figure out how his hand worked. Eliot thought it was damn precious. He turned around and kissed Q thoroughly before coaxing him back inside with a gentle push and a swift slap on the ass.

Eliot watched Q wander in front of him with the same sly smirk he usually wore when he knew something he was trying to keep to himself. He was completely infatuated with this man. Jesus how was Q so sexy just shuffling over to the bed and fumbling with the remote? Eliot felt the familiar butterflies that usually accompanied his pining. But this time, there was a twinge of something different. It was almost… _almost_ negative. Maybe not negative but at least somewhat worrisome. It was…Jesus fuck was that _jealousy_? It…what the…

No. Eliot put it out of his mind. Or, tried to. But he suddenly wanted to be as close to Quentin as possible. Holding him, cuddling him, owning him…

Well shit.

His brain kept wandering over to the neighbor. He was…nice looking. That is, he looked like he was nice. And he was also… _nice-looking_. Normally Eliot would have turned on the charm immediately and become his usual flirty self but this time his thoughts went immediately to Quentin standing behind him. And it wasn’t just a feeling of wanting to protect him – of wanting to keep Quentin to himself – but also he almost felt a bit _guilty_. Why? He hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t been flirting. He hadn’t even been looking, really. He sat down next to Q on the bed and tried to sort out these feelings that were suddenly flooding in. This apparently made him forget how to sit like a human because after a few minutes he heard a distant, “El? Eliot? EL!”

He snapped out of his thoughts and noticed he was sitting straight up on the very edge of the bed as if the bed itself were made of spikes. He looked like he was in pain. Quentin had sat up behind him and was staring at him with his brows adorably knitted together.

“Sorry,” said Eliot.

“’S ok, El, I was just worried about you for a minute,” said Quentin softly. “You ok?”

Eliot…wasn’t quite sure how to answer that question. “I…” he began, “I, um…don’t know?” His head was swimming. He tried to grab onto a thought, just one, to ground himself a bit.

“Hey,” coaxed Q, “I’m here. You wanna talk to me? What’s going on?”

Eliot looked at Q and took a deep breath. Gods, just looking at this man was grounding for him. He let a soft smile lilt onto his face as it softened. “I don’t know, Q, I think…I think I might have gotten jealous when we were outside?”

“Jealous?” Q laughed. “Of…who? Like, the neighbor?”

Eliot chuckled nervously. “I mean, maybe? I dunno. I’m not even sure if it was that. I can’t quite place this feeling.”

“Why would you be jealous?” Quentin sounded genuinely concerned and so, so soft.

Eliot thought about it for a minute. “I don’t know, Q. I guess, I mean, maybe because I’ve been pining for you for so long and I finally get to be with you and I felt pretty secure because it’s just been us alone here but then suddenly this hot guy appears two doors down and I felt…possessive…which is awful and I’m sorry.”

Quentin smiled slowly and sweetly. “You think he’s hot?”

“Literally _that’s_ what you got from that monologue?” Eliot drawled.

Quentin giggled. “I mean, no, I got the rest of it and I’m listening. You don’t have to apologize. Just…maybe you’re not really feeling jealous so much as…I dunno, bad for noticing him?”

Eliot froze. _Get the fuck out of my head, Coldwater._ “What do you mean,” he asked calmly, a poor attempt to don his old aloof façade.

Quentin rolled his eyes. “I mean you said he was hot. Maybe you feel bad for noticing him and being attracted to him and are compensating for that by being…I dunno, clingy and possessive? Not that…I mean I haven’t noticed…I don’t…think that you’re being clingy or anything…just…I mean _you_ said possessive so…”

“Q,” Eliot needed to stop that train before it derailed. “It’s ok, Q. I…fuck…” Eliot took a deep breath and knitted his brows. He paused a few seconds, then looked up through his lashes at Quentin, who was staring at him so _lovingly_ , so tender and soft, and _understanding_. “Jesus, Q,” he whispered. “You sure you’re a physical kid and not a psychic?”

Quentin flashed a sly smile and bit his lip. “Oh I’m a physical kid alright,” he said with a wink as he trailed his fingertips over Eliot’s thigh. Eliot closed his eyes and tried not to get distracted.

Quentin brought him back quickly. “Ok so, the thing is, El, I know you. And I know that there’s no way in hell you’re not going to notice hot guys around you. And there’s no way you’re not going to have them falling all over you.”

“He wasn’t exactly falling all over either one of us. He just said hello.” Eliot piped up, defensively.

“I know that, El, but I’m just saying, it happens. _A lot_. And it’s not going to stop happening. And you’re not going to stop noticing or flirting or absolutely _loving_ it.”

Eliot lowered his brows and glanced sideways at Q, wondering where he was going with this.

Quentin continued. “And I don’t expect or want you to, El. That’s not who you are. And that’s not who I am. Not when we have a choice…”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Eliot was…not expecting that.

Quentin took Eliot’s hand and rubbed the back of it gently with his thumb. “It means that I don’t expect you to stop looking or to stop wanting. And I…I honestly don’t even expect us to be exclusive.”

Eliot’s gut was hit with a mixture of devastation, excitement, disappointment, fear, and infatuation all at once. He wasn’t honestly even sure what to say to that. What exactly was Q implying? Did he want them to be more casual? Poly? Something else? He was fucking shaken by every surprise this man threw at him.

“Isn’t that my line, Q?” Eliot smiled.

“I mean it, El. I know it’s really easy to feel secure when it’s just us and no other options, but I don’t want you to think that’s all this is. You think you’re the only hot guy I’ve seen? You think you’re the only one I’ve ever fucked? Or that I want to?”

Eliot looked at him, startled, but not upset.

“I want you, El. I’ve wanted you for so long. And the more I get to know you in here the stronger that feeling gets. I’m not going to stop wanting you. And I don’t think you’re going to stop wanting me, either, just because you see someone else you like. Right? I mean, the neighbor _was_ hot. I’m not gonna lie. He was cute. I know you saw him, and I know you agree. So tell me…do you want me any less now that you saw him?”

“No!” Eliot said almost before Quentin could finish. “Q, I want you so much, you know that. Nothing is going to change that.”

“So then why should either of us be worried, El? Why should it matter? I mean I’m not exactly worried that you’re going to want to suddenly leave and go quarantine with him down the hall,” Quentin laughed.

“Well you never know, Q, he might have a better coffee maker,” El chuckled.

“So then let him come over with his coffee maker,” smirked Q with a wink.

Oh. _Oh,_ thought Eliot. Is that…is _that_ where this is going?

“Um…what?” blinked Eliot.

“Did I fucking stutter?” said Q confidently.

Eliot considered Q for a moment. “Q,” he said, finally, “do you want this to be more casual or…”

“No,” said Q immediately. “I don’t. I want to be _with_ you, Eliot. I want to be your boyfriend. I want to be completely romantic fools about it and be just absolutely disgusting in front of all our friends whenever possible. I just…I don’t necessarily expect monogamy. I mean, I’m not gonna be going on Tinder or anything but I’m not ruling out the possibility of either of us wanting other people. Not just on a surface, sexual level but like…you know…”

“Q, is this your way of telling me you’re poly without trying to look like an asshole? Because for the record, I’m not one of those people who look down on it.”

Quentin sighed. “Uh…I guess, yeah. I wasn’t…I wasn’t sure how to approach the subject really, but…well I guess you kind of did that for me.”

Eliot smiled. “Quentin you are an amazing person. And as for the poly thing…I am…97% sure I’m fine with that.”

Quentin cocked his head a bit. “97% sure? Not sure that counts as enthusiastic consent, El…”

Eliot closed his eyes and shook his head. “Ok so, I mean, I’m not sure if I would consider myself poly so much as I would consider myself a slut.”

Quentin laughed so loud it startled Eliot. “No shit,” he said sarcastically. “I hate to break it to you, El, but I’ve known you were a slut since I met you on the lawn.”

“Fair enough,” said Eliot with a sweet smile, “but I mean, I’ve…not had the greatest track record is what I’m saying. I’ve never actually given polyamory a serious try. I’ve been more of a serial-monogamist-slash-cheater my whole life. Don’t get me wrong, I love the idea of doing this the right way. I’m just…going to need some hand-holding I suppose.”

“That’s understandable, baby,” said Q. He squeezed his hand gently. “I mean, you’ll always have Margo. Anyone who wants you and doesn’t understand that you come with Margo can just fuck right off.”

Eliot sighed and looked up at Q with a smile of relief. “I was…honestly wondering how we were going to approach the Margo topic.”

Quentin…god, he was just so perfect and understanding and knowing. “El, you and Margo are soul mates. I know that. I’ve known it since we met. Do you honestly think I’d ask you to deny that? To give that up? Did you honestly think I would even _let_ you? Because if so, you seriously underestimated me.”

“I’m beginning to think I underestimated you in a lot of ways, Q,” said El as he leaned in and gave Quentin a soft kiss.

Quentin hummed and licked his lips as they pulled apart, “Hmm, that you certainly have. I’ve been enjoying proving you wrong. _Immensely_.” Quentin reached up and pulled Eliot back in by the front of his shirt, pressing his tongue into his mouth slowly and sensually until he felt Eliot melt into him. He gently pulled back and cupped Eliot’s face in his hand as he opened his eyes.

“Eliot,” he whispered, “I…” _no, Q, reel it in_ , “Nothing makes me happier than to see you happy. I’ve gotten to see that side of you so intimately over the last five days and I can’t get enough. I feel like…I’m addicted to your happiness, El. I love it. I want more of it. I love that I can make you so happy. And I also see that side of you with Margo. It’s beautiful to see you like that, El. And it’s also…different, with her. It’s a different happy. Not a lesser one, but just different and beautiful. And if I get to see someone else bring that out in you as well, then I’ll be over the moon, El. Because it makes me happy to see you happy. I want more of it. You’re not taking anything away from me when you’re around Margo. You’re not taking away from the happiness and feelings that we have. You’re adding to them. Why wouldn’t I love that? Why wouldn’t I…”

“I love you.”

_Holy. Shit._

Eliot had blurted it out before he even knew what he was doing. Everything suddenly began to spin. Eliot had to steady himself on Quentin’s arm for a moment as his head screamed ALL the alarms at him. _Danger! Danger! Abort!_ _What the fucking FUCK, El?!_

Quentin froze, stunned into silence. A full minute passed, the room filled with nothing but the sounds of their breathing, quickened and deliberate, and pregnant with so much emotion Quentin could taste it like metal on his tongue.

It was Quentin who finally broke the spell. “El,” he whispered shakily, “I…” he swallowed hard. Why was it so difficult to swallow right now? “You…what?”

Eliot’s eyes came into focus on Quentin’s face…his gorgeous, perfect face. He took a few deep breaths, steadying himself and his nerves. This was…ok so that had happened, and there’s no going back now. But…fuck it…Eliot didn’t want to go back. Eliot never wanted to go back. He wasn’t sure if it was the new relationship vibes or the quarantine crazies or what but, if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he definitely never wanted to go back to the way things were. Not with him, not with Q, not with anyone. He steeled himself and looked directly into Quentin’s big, puppy eyes, which were just dripping with hopefulness and a hint of terror. An uncertainty Eliot never wanted to see in Quentin’s eyes again. That’s what finally gave him the courage to open his mouth again.

“I love you, Quentin. I’m so in love with you. I don’t want to pretend that I’m not anymore. I’ve never been happier in my life, and I look at how I feel now compared to how I felt before, when I thought I was happy, and…I never want to go back to how I felt before. Because it doesn’t even hold a candle to this. This is…the realest I’ve ever felt and I feel it because of you. I love you. I _love_ you, Q. I’m so fucking terrified because of it but I love you more than I’m afraid of loving you, if that even makes any goddamned sense. You make me want to be brave and so here I am, being brave. I fucking love you.”

Quentin wiped a tear that had begun to roll down his cheek. He was really here, sitting on a bed, shaking in the arms of the most beautiful, thoughtful, and courageous man on Earth who was telling him that he loved him and…Q hadn’t been wrong. He hadn’t been mistaken. He wasn’t just misreading himself and putting false hope in a hopeless situation. For the first time a years he felt like he could trust himself. He looked into Eliot’s wet, hazel eyes that were threatening to overflow at any second.

“Fuck. I love you, El. I… _I love you._ ” He practically yelled it at Eliot, so full of excitement and relief he thought he would explode. “God, I love you so much, Eliot Fucking Waugh,” he cried as he pressed his mouth to Eliot’s in a hard, passionate kiss. He turned his head to deepen the kiss, rubbing his nose gently along damp stubble as he felt Eliot begin to shake gently. It was only as he pushed down on Eliot’s jaw and began to dance their tongues together that he noticed they were both sobbing. Salty tears mixed with spit as they licked into each other, ravenous but mindful of each other and what they each needed. Eliot’s hands threaded through Quentin’s hair as his thumbs journeyed down to gently graze over his eyebrows. Quentin let his hands glide down Eliot’s face as his fingertips mapped out his cheekbones. The two sat on the edge of the bed and made out like teenagers, exploring each other and enjoying each little touch, kiss, lick, playful bite. Tasting each other slowly as they cried in turn now and then, interspersed with soft laughter and cradling smiles that brought them home. _I could live forever in this man’s arms,_ thought Quentin as his hands melted into Eliot’s skin. Eliot sighed and felt all the tension of a thousand lifetimes fall away. _Yep,_ he thought, _I could definitely drink this man in for the rest of my days and still need more._


	11. I'll Be Watching You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is yet another chapter composed ENTIRELY of smut. Eliot and Quentin try out a scene from Quentin's spank bank.
> 
> But wait...plot twist...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: So there is some light power play here along with pretending DubCon (voyerism scene). Please also read ALL the tags. I add new tags each chapter.

Chapter 11: I’ll Be Watching You

Eliot sat outside on the balcony, cigarette in hand, enjoying as much relaxation as the rickety metal chair would afford him. He painted quite a picture, his long, slim legs propped up on the railing, still-damp curls falling haphazardly around his face, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to expose lean but nicely-muscled forearms. His waistcoat was unbuttoned, falling open to graze his narrow waist and accenting his broad shoulders. He dropped his head back, exposing his long neck as he blew delicate smoke circles into the air above him.

Quentin stood at the sliding glass door, staring thirstily. He had just gotten out of the shower, towel wrapped low on his hips, sharp hipbones jutting out over the top. Strings of hair hung down his back and in front of his face, dripping onto his smooth skin, cascading water droplets down his back and chest. He stood at the door, just peeking out of the curtain that half-way covered the entryway. He felt a little creepy looking out at Eliot, lusting over him as he sat outside in the morning sun. But then again, that was their game, wasn’t it? Quentin wasn’t very familiar with “scenes”, so when Eliot has asked him about some of the things he fantasized about, he…kind of had a moment.

…

_“Um, I dunno, like normal stuff, I guess,” Quentin stuttered._

_Eliot rolled his eyes. “Q, you are a lot of things, but normal is not one of them.”_

_Quentin returned the eye roll._

_“Seriously, though,” Eliot continued. “Baby, you don’t have to. I’m not going to force you to tell me. But if you want to, I’m listening. No judgment. If it’s a hard limit for me, then so be it. But I will say that I have very few hard limits.”_

_Quentin smiled sheepishly. “I mean, ok so…sometimes I like to think about…you, maybe, um…walkinginonme…”the last words fluttered out of him nervously._

_Eliot bit his lip and smiled. “What was that, baby?”_

_Quentin sighed. “Walking in on me…you know…”_

_“Oh,” grinned Eliot, unable to contain what his face was doing. “Oh shit yeah. I…yeah, Q, yes. I am definitely on board with that.”_

_“Yeah?” Q perked up a little._

_“Yeah, baby. So do you have like an entire scene in mind or…”_

_Quentin smiled. “Um, I dunno. I guess, maybe I’m thinking about you or…or watching you, like, secretly and…”_

_“Jerking off?”_

_“Yeah. And you walk in and find me and…like you watch but then also…um, help?”_

_Eliot began tracing small circles over Quentin’s thigh – an action he knew would be both grounding and arousing for Q at the same time. Quentin’s breathing slowed and his eyes closed halfway._

_“I think we can make that happen, Q,” reassured Eliot. “When would you like to give that a try?”_

…

So that’s how they came to be in this position, Eliot outside, pretending to be oblivious to the fact that Quentin was standing just inside the door, soaking wet, sexy as hell, and touching himself as he peeked out from around the curtain at his unsuspecting “crush”.

Quentin began palming his cock through his towel. He was already getting hard, and Eliot was just spurring him on, stretching out his arms and legs, exposing his neck and doing completely unnecessary things with his hands, and just being _unsuspectingly sexy_. Eliot slowly stood up, stretched (arching his back and sticking out his ass deliciously as he did so), and looked at his cigarette, nearly finished. Quentin tucked himself behind the curtain a little more, poking his head out just enough to view his subject. Eliot rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, just to call attention to it. He turned around and faced the inside of the room, back against the curtain as he grabbed his cock through the opening in the towel and began stroking himself. He threw his head back and closed his eyes, working himself up as he heard Eliot’s footsteps approach. He pretended not to hear the door slide open as Eliot stepped inside and froze in his tracks. He slid the door closed behind him quietly and watched as Q worked his hand over his cock, eyes closed, head thrown back and mouth hung open. This might have been the hottest thing Eliot had ever seen. His mouth went dry as he cleared his throat – the agreed-upon signal. Quentin jolted out of his bliss momentarily, opening his eyes and looking at Eliot with a shocked look on his face.

“El!” He exclaimed.

“Q…” breathed El. The two of them looked at each other for a few moments, breathing heavily. Their pupils were blown, and a very pronounced blush speckled across Quentin’s chest. His hand was stilled on his cock which was throbbing in his palm, aching for more friction. He locked eyes with Eliot, then slowly – painfully slowly – started to stroke himself again, challenging Eliot to participate. Eliot took a step toward Quentin. He looked absolutely ravenous – and Quentin just blossomed with it.

“Q,” he said again, “were you watching me outside?”

“Um…”

“Q,” snapped Eliot, this time with authority. “Were you jerking off to me in here?”

Quentin swallowed hard and nodded. A predatory smile spread across Eliot’s face.

“Why you dirty little boy, Q,” Eliot teased, coming a step closer. “Have you been fantasizing about me?”

Quentin nodded again.

Eliot was eating this up. “Oh yeah? What about, exactly?” Eliot flashed an absolutely evil grin at Quentin who was trying desperately to hold it together. He walked toward him and looked him over hungrily, taking his time to view every last inch he could, drawing out the suspense and making Q _squirm_ with anticipation. His eyes traveled up to meet Quentin’s. His face hardened slightly as he stared deeply into Quentin’s big, brown, puppy eyes. “Do you want to suck my cock, Q?”

Quentin closed his eyes and nodded frantically, still stroking himself slowly.

“Interesting,” Eliot drawled, now just inches from Quentin. He trailed his fingertips over Quentin’s waist, sending a jolt through Q’s body. “Do you want me to fuck you, Q?”

Quentin shuddered as his jaw dropped open. “Y-yes!” he spat out as he sped up his hand, smearing pre-cum over his cock as he quickened his pace.

Eliot gently grazed one of Q’s delectable hip bones as he reached for the towel around his hips. “Why Q,” he said as he loosened the towel and let it drop to the floor. He leaned in, barely touched his lips to Quentin’s ear, and breathed, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Quentin’s knees buckled. Eliot caught him before he hit the floor and let out a quiet chuckle. Quentin gave him a weary smile as he struggled to remain standing in Eliot’s arms. Eliot bent down and scooped him up, cradling Q’s back and draping his legs across his other arm. He stood up, holding him like a bride being carried across a threshold, and began smoothly walking him over to the bed. Quentin’s head was spinning, both from being overwhelmed by Eliot’s unbelievable sexiness, and from nearly edging himself before Eliot could even touch him.

Eliot laid him out on the bed and just looked at him, taking in every line of his body, naked and still wet from the shower. Cock hard and perfect, straining upward, leaving a small pool of pre-cum on his stomach. Eliot began taking off his carefully constructed outfit, one piece at a time. Q stared at him heatedly, locking lustful eyes with Eliot at he stripped seductively for him. Eliot caught the sight of Q’s fingers twitching on the bed next to him.

“You want to touch yourself, baby?” Asked Eliot. “You want to play with your cock while you watch me undress for you?”

“Fuck yes,” Quentin shuddered, his hand shaking, but not daring to move yet until he was told to do so.

“Go ahead,” smiled Eliot softly.

Quentin’s hand flew to his cock and gave it a few strokes to take the edge off.

“Not too fast now, Q,” cautioned Eliot. “Can’t have you coming before we get to the good parts.”

Quentin nodded and slowed his strokes, swiping his thumb over the head to slick himself up just a little. He watched as Eliot cocked his head while he pulled on his tie to loosen it. He carefully unbuttoned his very well-fitted shirt with strong, skillful fingers. Oh, the things Quentin imagined him doing with those fingers, things they had done, and things they hadn’t...Eliot made a show of peeling his shirt off of his smooth shoulders, tensing his muscles to make his collarbones even more pronounced than they already were. El knew damn well how much Q liked his collarbones – licking along the length of them up to his shoulder, sucking little purple marks into them, biting them hard, then soothing the pain with his warm tongue. Eliot turned around so Quentin could see the muscles in his back and shoulders tense as he pushed his shirt off of his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. He stayed facing away from him as he unbuckled his belt, sliding it quickly out of his belt loops with a sound that made Quentin squeak. El looked over his shoulder at Q as he unbuttoned his pants, pushing them teasingly down over his hips just a little then pausing. He shot Q a wicked smile as he arched his back to accentuate his ass as he slid his pants down to his ankles. He wasn’t wearing underwear. Quentin let out a soft whimper, like it was way too much, but he still couldn’t look away.

“ _Fuck_ , Eliot,” Quentin trembled. Eliot looked down at Q, still stroking himself, hips writhing up to meet his fist as he pumped up and down, smearing the pre-cum that was _profoundly_ leaking out of his cock. Quentin looked absolutely wrecked already. Eliot turned around to face him and _oh hell_ Quentin forgot he was still wearing his _goddamned tie_. Just the tie and nothing else. Eliot’s dick was hard and heavy between his legs as he straddled Quentin’s thighs and positioned himself over him. He gently grabbed Quentin’s hand and removed it from Q’s cock to place it on his own.

“ _Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ ” Quentin panted. He was becoming pleasantly overwhelmed. Eliot didn’t want this to end yet though. He skillfully brought him back into the scene.

“So Q,” he began, hovering along Quentin’s neck, seductively breathing long, warm breaths along his hot, flushed skin. “How often do you masturbate thinking about me? How many times have you secretly watched me while you touched yourself?”

Quentin tried to stammer out an answer. “I-I, Uh uh uhm…I…I dunno. A few…”

“Hmm,” Eliot hummed, pressing his lips to Quentin’s pulse point, “ _liar_ ,” he hissed sensually, sending a chill down Quentin’s entire body.

“Um,” Q muttered, “…a lot…like, every day…at least once…”

“Really?” Eliot placed his hand over Quentin’s on Eliot’s cock, squeezing gently and helping him along. “You _are_ a dirty little boy, aren’t you, Q?”

Quentin gasped. _Fuck why did that do it for him?_ He nodded his head, “Yes. Yeah, I am.” He bit his lip and stared into Eliot’s eyes, a subtle challenge.

“What else have you thought about doing to me, Quentin? What have you thought about me doing to you?”

“ _Oh god,_ ” cried Quentin, unable to form words.

Eliot stilled their hands momentarily and held Quentin’s gaze steadily. “I need you to use your words, Quentin.”

Quentin took a deep breath. “I want everything. I want you inside me. Any part of you…your fingers, your cock…I want you.”

“There you go, Q, such a good boy for me.” Quentin’s cock twitched at the praise. “Well,” continued Eliot, “now that I have your enthusiastic consent…”

With that, Quentin grabbed his tie and pulled him forward. Eliot surged down to meet him and captured Quentin’s mouth in a searing hot kiss, fucking into his mouth with his tongue forcefully, delighting in Quentin’s surprised moans of pleasure beneath him. Quentin responded eagerly, sucking on Eliot’s tongue and stealing sharp little bites along his lip whenever Eliot gave him the chance. Quentin bucked his hips up against Eliot’s as El began to grind down on him, sliding their cocks together. They rutted together clumsily at first before finding a rhythm and rolling their hips together in unison, each giving and taking in turn. Eliot reached down and hooked his hand behind one of Quentin’s knees, drawing it up toward his shoulder. Quentin felt the familiar motions of Eliot performing the tut to lube him up and smiled against Eliot’s mouth.

“You know what’s coming, don’t you, baby,” Eliot grinned as he slid his hand between Quentin’s legs and found that sensitive spot that made Quentin yelp. He teased his opening with small circles, putting gentle pressure on his hole while he watched Quentin squirm. Quentin let out an open-mouthed sigh as Eliot’s index finger breached the tight ring of muscle and slipped in up to the first knuckle. Quentin opened up much more readily than he had even a few days ago (honestly with the amount of sex they’d been having this wasn’t surprising), and Eliot was quickly able to add a second finger to his slicked-up hole, followed by the most pornographic sounds coming from Quentin’s mouth. Quentin let his legs fall apart as Eliot fingered him. Eliot sat back on his calves to get a better angle, and so he could take in the full effect of this adorably sexy man – _his man_ – being thoroughly fucked. Quentin opened his legs wider and begged for another finger. Eliot smiled and happily obliged, pushing his fingers in deep on every slow thrust, grazing Quentin’s prostate and making him shake beautifully. Eliot looked thoroughly debauched himself. Quentin was sexy as fuck as it was, but Quentin getting into a scene, even mildly, was something Eliot was not quite prepared for. Quentin writhed and moaned on the bed, flailing his arms lazily, seemingly looking for something to hold on to. He balled the sheets up in one hand and tensed his muscles while the other flew back to Eliot’s tie. Eliot was momentarily distracted by the flex of muscles and tendons in Quentin’s arms. He ran his free hand along the soft hair covering Q’s forearm, shivering with want. Quentin snapped him back into reality with a strong tug on Eliot’s tie.

“More,” Q demanded. Eliot nodded his head and added a fourth finger. Quentin opened up around Eliot’s fingers as El fucked into him faster and harder. Quentin let himself relax as Eliot pushed him up into the pillow, using his grip on the sheets and on Eliot’s arm to help push himself back onto his fingers. Eliot dropped his jaw in disbelief at this small little man who could apparently take everything Eliot has to offer him and more. Quentin panted hard as he spread his legs wide, bracing his feet against the bed next to his hips. He grabbed the hand that Eliot was working with and stilled it for a second. He stared at Eliot seductively, lust filling his eyes as he bit his lip hard.

“ _More_ ,” he whispered, chest heaving with want. Eliot’s mouth went dry.

“Um, Q?”

“ _MORE_ , Eliot,” Q asserted, letting his knees fall apart even farther to drive home his point. “I want all of it.”

“Holy fuck, Quentin,” Eliot huffed, unable to stop himself from letting out a surprised laugh. “Are you serious?”

Quentin nodded with a smirk.

“Fuck, baby, ok yeah…” Eliot said with a smirk to match. Quentin performed the tut to add more lube as Eliot slipped his thumb into Quentin beside his other four fingers. Eliot slowly began working his hand into him, gently pushing and twisting. He reached the second knuckles on his hand and Quentin sucked in a quick breath.

“Ok, baby? Green?” Eliot froze.

“Yeah,” replied Q, “green, baby, way green.”

Eliot nodded and twisted his hand a little, alternately pushing and pulling out slightly, feeling Quentin’s hole stretch and open up around his hand. Quentin began panting and Eliot stilled again. Q nodded and chanted, “green, green, green,” under his breath to let Eliot know this was _good_. This was _really_ good. Eliot pushed forward lightly and felt Quentin relax as Eliot reached the third knuckles on his hand. He stretched out his fingers inside Quentin’s body, finally allowing his hand to slip in all the way as he squeezed his thumb and pinky together. Quentin let out a shout, but it wasn’t in pain. It was… _fuck_ it was hot. Eliot kept his hand still for a moment, allowing Q to relax around him while still making the most incredible sounds. Jesus, Eliot wanted to take a picture because _holy fuck_ , Q definitely needed to see this. Quentin drew in a sharp breath, then let out a sigh as Eliot felt him relax.

“Move, El,” Quentin said, looking absolutely _gone_. Eliot began to move his hand in and out. Quentin let out little gasps of pleasure as Eliot began to slowly slide his hand almost all the way out before pushing it slowly back in. Quentin melted into the bed. Eliot smoothed his fingers up and over Quentin’s stomach, through the soft hair that led up to his chest. He drew slow circles around a nipple, flicking it lightly with his thumb before bending down to suck it into his mouth. Quentin cried out in pleasure as Eliot licked and sucked, biting gently, giving a little tug now and then. Eliot reveled in making Q fall apart underneath him, and each blissful moan that escaped Quentin’s lips went straight to Eliot’s cock.

“Oh god,” he cried, “faster, El. Please, baby.”

“Shit, Q,” Eliot moved his hand faster, able to slide it in and out more easily now. Quentin started to push himself downward onto Eliot’s hand with each thrust as El began fisting him harder and faster. Quentin couldn’t keep even remotely quite as his mouth fell open and moans of “Ahh, uhhh, ohhh god, _fuuuuuuck_ ” began to spill from his gorgeously swollen, pink lips.

Eliot was sweating as he watched Quentin fuck himself back onto his fist harder and harder. Eliot felt the knuckle of his thumb brush against Q’s prostate on each thrust. Q struggled to find words, mumbling out a few “mmms” and “umms” as he gasped for breath. “El,” he finally managed. “El, I’m close. Fuck El, I’m gonna…”

“Come on, baby,” El began muttering complete filth as he pounded into Quentin and Q just ate it up happily. “You’re such a dirty little boy for me, Q, god you just take my whole fist in there, baby, Jesus Christ. Fuck, you like that? You like feeling Daddy’s fist stretching you out, baby boy…you gonna come for me, little Q?”

“Please, El, touch me… _fuck_ , baby, _please…I can’t…_ ”

Quentin was painfully hard. Eliot grabbed Quentin’s cock roughly and Quentin screamed. Eliot didn’t have time to give it more than two quick pumps before Quentin was coming hard, clenching down on Eliot’s fist as cum shot up to hit Quentin on the cheek. Eliot let go of Q and grabbed his own cock, stroking himself hard and fast. It only took a few seconds before El was coming all over Quentin’s stomach and chest. His hand… _fuck, his hand was still buried deep inside Quentin’s ass and it was the hottest fucking thing he’s ever seen_. Eliot flattened his hand as much as he could, drawing back slowly as he pulled out as gently as possible, met with gasps and yelps from Quentin as he adjusted to the emptiness.

He did a quick clean-up spell on various body parts as Quentin slowly came back down to Earth. Eliot leaned down and licked the spot of cum that had shot up to Quentin’s cheek, then kissed Q slowly and softly, cradling his face in his hand tenderly. Quentin was exhausted, and completely blissed out. He brought his hand up unsteadily to weave his fingers through Eliot’s hair, gripping gently but surely as he licked into Eliot’s mouth softly, unable to get his fill of the beautiful sweet taste of Eliot. Eliot slid down to snuggle next to him as they held each other and kissed, hands roaming and caressing slowly, gently, so lovingly. They drank each other in completely as they melted together in the afterglow, filling each other’s needs for touch and comfort like no one had before.

It was then, with a sudden magical crackle in the air, that Penny showed up.


	12. Losing My Religion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the angst. Just a little though, I promise. It's short-lived. The boys arrive home, Eliot is stupid, etc. etc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 12 and 13 were originally designed to be one chapter but since it was hella long I split them up. No worries, I'm posting them both today so we won't be stuck on an angsty cliffhanger :)

“Whoa, Jesus, what the fuck?” Penny’s eyes popped out of his head as his face contorted and his hands flew up to cover his eyes. He spun around so quickly he almost fell over. Eliot startled and threw an arm over Quentin protectively as Quentin scrambled clumsily to grasp at the blankets and cover himself. The effort failed miserably as the blankets got stuck underneath him, and the things his body had to do in order to get untangled was making a bigger spectacle of his nakedness than if he had just left them alone. Eliot steadied him when he almost flipped himself off of the bed after one particularly frustrated tug at the sheets. Eliot put a firm hand on Quentin’s thigh – a gesture of, “stop, baby, I got this” – and carefully covered Q up to the waist with the top sheet. El, of course, lay there shamelessly exposed, reveling in the fact that it was clearly making Penny uncomfortable as hell.

“Hey, Penny,” Eliot drawled with a smirk.

“Christ, I did _not_ need to see _any_ of that,” said Penny with a roll of his eyes as he turned back around cautiously. “Oh – _Jesus_ , motherfucker, put something on…”

Quentin tugged the sheet up to cover Eliot’s dick at least. Eliot gave a careless shrug and turned his attention back to Penny.

“Thanks,” said Penny, unconvincingly.

“Um…Penny?” Quentin’s brows furrowed adorably as his eyes darted around, which Eliot knew signaled that his brain was working overtime to solve some kind of puzzle. “Wh-why are y…how…wha…where did…”

“I think what Q is trying to say is…what the fuck are you doing here, Penny?” Eliot to the rescue.

Penny looked back and forth from Quentin to Eliot a few times, finally processing what was going on here. “Fogg finally realized you two weren’t at Brakebills and lowered the wards back down to where they were so we could figure out what was going on,” he explained. “When he did, Margo was pelted by all of your little messages. I guess they’d been waiting outside the wards until they could get in.” Penny looked around at the snack foods piled up, the cold coffee out on the counter, taking in the scene as he talked in order to avoid direct eye contact with Eliot who was still making him uncomfortable. “Said you were holed up in some motel so they sent me to come grab you and take you back so they could set the wards back up again.” Penny looked pointedly at the two of them. “Didn’t say anything about this shit going on though,” he added, motioning to their moderately-covered bodies in the bed.

Quentin knitted his brows together in a cute but shocked little frown as he looked at Eliot. Eliot stared at Penny and pressed his lips together, carefully avoiding Quentin’s gaze. “Well,” Eliot said, a little too happily, “shall we get going then?”

“Um, yeah let’s just…get dressed, I guess,” said Quentin, softly.

Penny wandered toward the sliding glass door. “I’ll just chill out here then.”

“K,” said Q, still looking confused and…what was that, _sad_? Eliot quickly pulled himself together and started gathering up the food, toiletries, etc. None of it was really worth taking with them, so he tossed it in a bag and set it near the front door.

Quentin had finished getting himself dressed by now. “I’ll take that out,” he said to Eliot, who nodded absently as he straightened out his vest. Q made a little worried face but grabbed the bag and went outside to toss it in the dumpster. As the door closed, Eliot quickly walked over to the glass door and stepped out.

“Hey,” he said quietly. Penny turned around. “So listen,” Eliot began, “could you…not say anything about…what you saw…when we get back? Just…not that I’m trying to hide it, I…”

Penny looked at him sideways for a moment, “No yeah, sure. I mean it’s not my information to tell, right?”

“Right,” whispered Eliot, looking downward nervously.

“I got you. No worries,” said Penny.

Eliot nodded. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“Thanks for what?” asked Q, suddenly poking his head out of the door.

Eliot jumped. “For, um, you know, taking us back,” he stammered.

Quentin regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. “Yeah, ok,” he said. “I mean, yeah, thanks, Penny.”

“No problem,” Penny nodded. “You ready?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Q brightly.

“As I’ll ever be,” Eliot sighed.

Penny placed his hands on Q and El’s shoulders and within an instant, the trio was standing in the middle of the cottage. Margo and Alice jumped up from the couch where they were sitting. Julia and Kady were sitting at the bar, looking relieved.

“Fucking finally,” boomed Margo as she strode forcefully toward them. She gave Eliot her best _you-are-in-BIG-trouble-little-boy_ look as she stopped inches from his chest, craning her neck upward. How anyone managed to stare _down_ someone as tall as Eliot while being as short as Margo was something Quentin could never understand, but damn if it wasn’t both sexy and terrifying. “I could kick the shit out of you both right now,” she barked, darting a stern glance over to Quentin, which made him jump back slightly. “You go off all fucking day and don’t even _think_ to check your phone, El? _Seriously?_...” Quentin slowly slinked back as Margo laid into Eliot. Eliot stood there, head slightly down, taking his scolding like a good boy. Quentin thirsted a little too much at that thought. “…and while we were all sitting here with our thumbs up our asses unable to do anything about it…” Margo kept on as Quentin gradually backed away. He was jolted out of his sub-Eliot daydream by a small hand on his elbow. He turned to see Julia coming in hard for a hug.

“You stupid motherfucker I’m so glad you’re ok,” she said. She released him after a few good seconds and grabbed his biceps, backing up to look him square in the eye. “Don’t ever, _ever_ fucking do that again, Q. You have no idea how worried I was.”

Margo finished up her scolding and looked over to Quentin. “So, what have you two been up to over the last few days?”

 _Few days?_ Thought Q. Damn. Right. The whole Brakebills…time…thing…Quentin opened his mouth to speak when he was cut off by Eliot.

“Oh, you know, just sending you guys letters and watching the news. Nothing exciting,” chirped El, flippantly. Quentin stared at him in disbelief.

“El…” he said, quietly, his little puppy face scrunching into a frown that was almost pleading. His eyes searched Eliot’s face for some kind of sign as to what to do or what to say.

“Q,” he said, not yet looking at Quentin. Not a question, exactly but…not an answer, either. It was just a flat – statement. Cold and unyielding, and fucking devastating. Eliot looked over to see the smallest, softest look of _hurt_ on Quentin’s face.

 _Fuck_. He had fucked up.

Quentin set his jaw as he shook his head and bolted upstairs, stomping as he went like a toddler who couldn’t have a cookie. Eliot’s gaze followed him, scrambling to try and undo what he had done. “Quentin,” he called, but Q didn’t even pause. The frozen stillness of the room was shaken by the sound of Quentin’s door slamming shut. Everyone shifted nervously and looked at each other with questioning expressions. Everyone except Margo, who was standing in front of Eliot, hands on her hips, draggers reaching out from her knowing eyes and driving deep into Eliot’s chest.

“Upstairs, El,” she ordered, “ _now_.”

Eliot complied and trudged up the stairs, hanging his head shamefully as Margo trailed behind him with more authority than all of the Brakebills professors combined. Eliot could hear whispers below as he rounded the corner and headed into Margo’s room. Margo closed the door behind her with a controlled movement, managing to somehow convey frustration, disappointment, and empathy all at once within a simple “click.”

“Spill it, El,” she commanded, but softer this time. Eliot sighed deeply and slowly raised his eyes to meet her.

“Bambi,” he said, tilting his head as if to say _please don’t make me do this_. Margo wasn’t buying it.

“Don’t ‘Bambi’ me, Eliot.” Margo’s patience was wearing thin. “Why did our favorite little nerd just hightail it out of here like someone just stole his teddy bear?”

Eliot sighed. Why the fuck did he have to be such a self-fulfilling prophesy all the time? He had been so brave at the motel, faced only with Quentin’s beautiful face and courageous heart. But now, reality was back. It had only been a little over a week but…it was like a fantasy. Another life. A vacation that didn’t really happen. He felt safe there, just the two of them. No one to perform for. No one to judge them. _Him_. No one to judge _him_ …

Honestly he didn’t even really know _why_ he had been so hushed about it from the beginning – why he told Penny not to breathe a word. It was almost like an instinct. Part of him knew it was because he and Q hadn’t really gotten a chance to talk about it – what they were going to say or whether it was ok that everyone knew – or _what_ they knew, because Q was still a little skittish about his sex life being out in public. And sure, that was a noble enough reason to be tight-lipped about it. But…he knew that wasn’t it. He was scared. He had a reputation to uphold here at Brakebills – a reputation that, above all else, _kept him safe_. What would life be like now that The Great and Powerful Eliot Waugh had “settled down”? What would people say? How would it change how they looked at him, how they respected him…feared him, even? Eliot was untouchable, and everyone knew it. Except…now he…wasn’t. And everyone would know it…

It terrified him. And that fear had ultimately ended up hurting Q in the process. Which – _god_ , made that cycle of self-depreciation so much worse.

But this was Margo and he could never hide anything from Margo. She knew how he felt about Q from the start. She was the one he ran to after dropping him off for the entrance exam. It was her door he had burst through like the goddamned Kool-aid man yelling, “ _Puppy! Puppy, I found a puppy!_ Margo can we keep him?” Margo was the one who had listened to him go on and on for the better part of an hour talking about his hair and his dimples and the hair on his wrists poking out of his shirt sleeves and his _neck_ which was “so scruffable, Bambi, you should see it”, and again his dimples because _dimples_. Bambi had helped him pick out a different outfit to wear once Q got out of the exam because Eliot wanted to look _good_. Bambi had held him while he told her about how Quentin had been looking at Alice all day and that he was probably straight. Bambi had nodded and accepted Eliot’s act of attempting to sound very nonchalant but honestly trying not to cry. Bambi knew everything. He couldn’t keep this from her.

“Q and I,” Eliot began, not knowing where exactly to begin, “we…while we were gone…”

Margo’s expression softened as the corners of her mouth struggled unsuccessfully to remain down. “Did you fuck our little nerd while you were on vacay?” Her eyes were lit up, even though she was at least attempting to take this very seriously.

Eliot sighed. “Yes,” he admitted. Margo smiled.

“Oh my god, _El_ …” she said teasingly, hitting him on the arm playfully. Eliot kept his eyes trained on the floor. Margo’s face dropped, remembering what had transpired downstairs. “Shit, El. What happened?”

“I fucked up, Bambi,” he said, a quick sob escaping his throat as he collapsed back onto the bed. Margo sat next to him and held his head in her lap, softly petting his arm and running the backs of her fingers gently over his cheek.

“Hey, hey no, no, no, no, no…shhhh, it’s ok, baby. Tell me what happened. We can fix this.” It still always amazed El how soft and caring Margo could be when no one was looking.

“It…was amazing, Bambi. He…we…it was so fast, but…I mean you _know_ how I’ve felt about him from the beginning. And he…apparently felt the same way. So we…we decided to give it a try. Like a _real try_ , Bambi.”

Margo’s hand stopped. “Like, a _relationship_ try?”

Eliot nodded, his tears soaking running onto Margo’s leg. She didn’t seem to mind.

“Wow, El. That’s…like, huge…for you,” Margo’s hand began petting his shoulder again. “So…how did that…lead to all… _this_?” She motioned to – well, to the entirety of Eliot bawling his eyes out and whimpering in her lap.

Eliot took a shaky breath in, his diaphragm shuddering as he tried to stop crying. He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in Margo’s thigh. “I told him I loved him, Margo.”

“Oh.” Margo stilled again. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Eliot managed to huff out a laugh. “And I meant it, Bambi. He meant it, too. I…I love him.”

Margo nodded and stroked her fingers along his jaw in a soothing motion, encouraging him to continue.

“And everything was _so good_. Just…so, so perfectly good. Until I got here and fucked it up because…because…”

“Because you denied being with him in front of all your friends,” Margo said, recalling the sequence of events.

“Yeah. That,” Eliot said, defeated.

Margo shifted and put her hand under Eliot’s head, pushing him up off of her lap and encouraging him to sit up. “So what’s the hang up, hmm?”

“I don’t know, Bambi. It just…happened so fast. Penny showed up and we just had to get dressed and leave. And…”

“Wait…you had to get dressed? Fuck, El, did Penny show up while you two were –“

“No, well…I mean we were…finished. Just, still naked.”

Margo couldn’t contain her giggle. “Wait a minute so Penny knows?”

“Yeah. I told him not to say anything.”

“Bet Q loved that,” Margo said sarcastically.

“He didn’t know. I waited until he was out of the room…”

“Oh,” said Margo. “So he had no idea you were ashamed of him until just now in front of all of his friends…”

“I’m NOT _ashamed_ of him, Margo!” Eliot snapped.

“Well it certainly seems that way, Hun. Especially to Quentin.” Margo was nothing if not direct - just when you needed it.

Eliot’s shoulders dropped in defeat, his eyebrows squeezing together as if that could somehow keep out the shame that was bombarding him. “I know,” he whined, “And I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Go talk to him, El. Just…don’t be stupid. Be honest with him. Tell him what you’re afraid of and why. You two are _good_ together, El. I could see that a long time ago. Make this right. And don’t come out of his room until you do.”

Eliot knew that tone of voice. It was an order, and Eliot would comply.

Margo kissed him gently on the forehead then patted him on the ass as he stood up and walked toward the door. “Go get ‘em, tiger,” he joked with a wink. Eliot couldn’t respond. He was focused.

He crossed the hall and stood in front of Quentin’s door for a moment, wanting desperately to make a run for it. He recalled Quentin’s face, true and honest and so, s _o open_ when he had told Eliot he wanted to try to make a relationship with him work. _His_ Q, so brave and so perfect. He drew his breath up through his chest, raised his chin a little higher, and knocked.

“What?” came a _very_ irritated puppy on the other side.

“Q? It’s me,” Eliot said quietly.

He could hear the sounds of the bed creaking and soft, grumpy footsteps treading toward the door. It opened to reveal an angry-pouting Quentin frowning up at him through _unbelievably gorgeous eyelashes_ and Eliot almost forgot why he was there.

Quentin looked past Eliot to glance up and down the hall. “Aren’t you afraid someone might _see_ you with me?”

Eliot deserved that.

“No, Q. Can I come in?” Eliot lowered his head back down to give Quentin a pleading _I’m-sorry-I-tracked-mud-on-the-floor_ look and Quentin melted away from the door, allowing him entrance. He closed the door behind him, a little too loudly.

“Q, I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…I wasn’t thinking…” Eliot didn’t really know where he was going with this at all, just that he had to make it right somehow.

Quentin huffed out an irritated chuckle and ran his hand through his hair, pushing it temporarily out of his face before letting it fall back. “Yeah, well, that’s the problem isn’t it? It’s what happens when you’re not thinking, El, that worries me, and let’s face it, there are a lot of times when you’re not thinking.”

Ok fair. But, damn it Eliot was trying here. “Q, please, just…can you let me explain?”

Quentin rolled his eyes to the side and threw his hands up, a silent _fine, go ahead_. He remained standing while Eliot took a seat on the bed.

“Q, we didn’t even have a chance to talk about it. Before we got here. We didn’t…I’m not good at relationships, and when you’re with someone else…when you have, this...new information that not everyone knows yet…I wanted to make sure that we’re both ok with everyone knowing –“

“Why wouldn’t I be ok with everyone knowing, Eliot?” Quentin cut in, growing more irritated. “I’m not ashamed of you, _or of us_.”

Shit.

“I know that, Q. And I’m not ashamed of you either. Or…us. Just…it’s not _only_ my information to tell, you know? I thought we should talk about it.”

Quentin looked at him out of the corner of his eye for a moment, considering the situation cautiously. His face softened ever-so-slightly. “Ok, yeah I can…I can see that…”

Eliot perked up just a little at that, hoping he hadn’t completely fucked it all up yet. “Yeah, yeah and…I just…we need to make sure that we’re both on the same page, you know? Because this is…all new to me, Q. And it’s difficult for me to…change.” Well, shit, there he went, forgetting that whole _don’t be stupid_ warning from Margo… “I mean, I’m Eliot Fucking Waugh – emphasis on the ‘fucking.’” Quentin laughed a little at that. “It’s a big change for me, Q. My whole reputation has…been my life here. I just…I was scared of everyone knowing…everyone seeing that I’m not exactly the cold-hearted bitch they’ve all come to know and love. I ran, Q. I know I said it was because we hadn’t talked, and part of it was but…” Eliot closed his eyes, unable to look at his boyfriend while he admitted his failures. “I didn’t want them to know.”

Quentin stood still and silent for what seemed like days. Eliot was afraid to open his eyes. Finally, a small but forceful voice broke the silence. “But now you do?” asked Quentin.

Eliot…didn’t answer.

Eliot didn’t know the answer. A million and one scenarios entered his head, each one spelling out the disaster that his anxiety told him was certain to befall him if everyone knew Eliot Waugh was in a relationship with Quentin Coldwater. Most of them revolved around the idea of students talking shit, not about Eliot, but about Quentin. Jealousy seeping through the Brakebills students like poison, pouring out onto this sweet, _innocent_ child of a man who had no business getting himself involved in all of Eliot’s drama. This man that he wanted to protect at all costs. How could he allow that to happen? But here he was, a brave little warrior, standing in front of him, hurt by the man whose only aim was to keep him safe. There was no way to win this.

Quentin didn’t wait for Eliot to speak. He had his answer, and replied with a quick march out of his own room, followed by a strong slam of the door as Quentin made his way back downstairs. Eliot collapsed into himself on the bed. His head was spinning, his stomach was in knots, and there was absolutely no reason at all to stop the tears from violently taking their leave of him now as he let his head fall into his hands and sobbed like a goddamned Disney princess into Quentin’s comforter.


	13. Without Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the Musical Episode! Or, musical chapter, I should say. Yes, yes it is. The boys make up, in grand Eliot Waugh fashion. Also make-up sex. The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one filled with musical shenanigans and just so much gratuitous smut. Insanely fluffy, really. Just tooth-rotting shit. Thank you for sticking with me on this Queliot journey! I hope you enjoy our boys and their happy ending :)

Barely two minutes had passed before there came an angry knock on the door. Margo’s voice boomed into the room. “Eliot, open this door _right the fuck now_.”

_Shit, shit, shit._

Eliot waved his hand and opened the door telekinetically as Margo stormed in, slamming it behind her. “Youth had _one_ job, El: Don’t be stupid. That’s it. That’s literally _all_ you had to accomplish. What the fuck did you do, El?”

“What did he say, Bambi?” Eliot muffled into his hands.

“ _Nothing._ Not a goddamned thing. He just went down there, all pouty – and _not_ the precious kind of pouty – and sat on the couch. He won’t speak to anyone. Just sits there and says he doesn’t want to talk about it. No one knows what the fuck is going on. What did you say to him?”

“I told him the truth. I told him that I was scared to let everyone know. And he asked me if I was ok with letting everyone know now and…I panicked. He…didn’t wait for me to answer him…” Eliot took his hands away from his face, tear-stained eyeliner streaks running down his cheeks into the scruff on his chin. Margo marched over to him and put a steady hand under his chin, tilting it up to force Eliot to meet her gaze, which was – _Jesus_ , intense as fuck.

Margo spoke slowly and deliberately, obviously trying to restrain herself. _Shit, this was bad_. “Ok, this is what you’re going to do. You are going to go downstairs and talk with him again. If I have to lock you two in a room for 24 hours until you sort this shit out, I goddamn will, so don’t fucking test me. You are Eliot Fucking Waugh, and you will _fix. your. mess._ ”.

She dropped her hand out from under his chin abruptly and spun around to glide toward the door in the most Margo way possible. She opened it and turned her head toward him as she stepped into the hallway. “I’ll give you five minutes to get yourself together, because ya look like hell. You’ll be down there, or I’ll be up to get you.” With that she closed the door, and Eliot exhaled shakily as he heard her heels click-clack down the stairs.

He stood up and performed a quick tut to clean his face and take some of the redness out of his eyes. What the fuck was he supposed to do? He tried talking to him. He told him the truth, which was…well, frankly, really shitty. And now he had made Quentin feel as though Eliot was ashamed of him, which, _God_ , couldn’t be farther from the truth. If anything, Eliot felt like Quentin was way out of his league. He was so proud of Q, in every way. It was himself he was ashamed of. He needed a way to _show_ Q that he loved him and wasn’t afraid to shout it from the rooftops. Some kind of grand romantic gesture, maybe a bit embarrassing and definitely extra but…

Well, now that he thought of it, this kind of thing may just have been right up Eliot’s alley. I mean, he did throw the best parties on campus. And “extra” was definitely his MO. Maybe if he looked at it from that angle – showing Quentin how proud he was by…

By _what_?

He couldn’t throw him a party. And no one knew about them so a flash mob was out of the question. Maybe…

Shit.

Oh holy shit.

Fuckfuckfuck he had it. Why the fuck wasn’t this the first thing that came to mind? _Jesus Christ, El_ , he could hear Margo say, _you really are stupid sometimes_.

Quickly he counted the number of people still downstairs – Margo, Julia, Penny, Kady, Alice, and of course, Q. Taking into account circumstances, a quick refresher of the right tuts, and Eliot was out the door.

He stepped gingerly down the stairs, fear flooding his belly once again. But this time he actively pushed it away. _Be brave, Eliot. For Q._ Quentin was sitting on the couch with his arms folded, looking stubborn as hell. Julia was next to him apparently trying to get him to talk to her. Alice and Kady were standing nearby, while Penny and Margo were conspiring in the corner about something. Everyone turned to look as Eliot descended the stairs. Quentin gave him a bit of side-eye and returned to sulking.

“Guys,” Eliot began as he raised his hands and began crossing them in front of himself like an orchestra conductor, “I’m really sorry about this, but I need your help,” his hands crossed in front of his face as he grabbed his left wrist. Margo stepped forward, recognizing the tut. “El,” she cautioned, though too late. “Eliot, no.” Eliot shook his head at her apologetically, twisted his hand under his right arm, and crossed his fingers with a loud “snap”.

Strums of a guitar began playing throughout the cottage, along with a low, retro beat as Julia, Alice, Kady, Margo, and Penny began walking around the room, compelled by the spell.

Margo cocked her head to one side. “ _Hairspray,_ Eliot?”

“Don’t kink shame, Bambi,” Eliot replied as they all circled the room, falling into formation in a semicircle around the couch.

“Jesus Manuel Miranda Christ.” Margo rolled her eyes as she continued to be pulled around the room by the spell.

“Fuck, _really_?” said Penny, a look of disgust on his face as Kady rolled her eyes.

“Yes, really,” answered Eliot, “everyone except Q.” He darted his eyes over to Quentin on the couch. “The choice is his.” Eliot stared into Quentin’s eyes as the music began to crescendo, signaling Eliot’s entrance.

“ _Once I was a selfish fool who never understood…”_

“I don’t fucking believe this,” grumbled Penny. Kady slapped him in the stomach.

“ _Never looked inside myself, though on the outside, I looked good,”_ Eliot jumped down the last three steps and winked at Quentin, eliciting a reluctant half smile from his curvy lips. Q was embarrassed as shit. This was the perfect idea.

The group began humming a harmony in the background as Eliot approached Quentin on the couch, canting his hips forward.

“ _Then we met and you made me the man I am today,_ ” he reached his arms out toward Quentin, a silent _may-I-have-this-dance_. “ _Quentin, I’m in love with you, no matter what they say.”_

Quentin let out a little gasp and looked like he was about to cry. Everyone joined in the chorus with Eliot as he held onto Quentin’s hands.

“ _’Cause without love, life is the like the seasons without summer, without love, life is rock ‘n’ roll without a drummer_.”

Now Eliot sang alone, accompanied by ooohs and aaaahs from his friends who were now swaying in unison in the background. “ _Quentin, I’ll be yours forever ‘cause I never wanna be without lo-o-o-o-o-o-ove…”_

Quentin laughed, tears dropping one by one from his lashes.

_“Quentin never set me free.”_

Alice and Margo reached down to help Quentin stand up from the couch as Penny, Julia, and Kady began spinning into formation at the base of the stairs, all five of them keeping the chorus going with “ _I ain’t lyin;, no no no._ ” Eliot motioned for Quentin to join in. but Q just stood there looking sheepish. _God he was adorable_.

“ _Living in The Cottage guys are everywhere I look,”_ Eliot took Quentin’s hand and dragged him out to stand in front of the group of shimmying do-wop background dancers formerly known as their friends. _“Who’d have thought I’d love a boy obsessed with nerdy children’s books?”_

Quentin threw him a _watch-it_ look, though smirked along with it. Eliot opened his mouth to sing again, but was stopped with a single index finger belonging to a timid Quentin who had apparently finally found his fucking voice. Eliot gave him a look of astonishment – along with everyone else – as Q began to sing like his life depended on it…

_“Pretty sure the way you move’s what really did the trick, now I’ve been spoiled by Eliot Waugh’s canonically huge dick!”_

Eliot nearly fainted. Julia’s hand flew up to cover her mouth as Kady snorted and Penny looked like he was about to throw up. Margo bit her lip and raised her eyebrows in approval.

_“Cause without love,”_ everyone circled Quentin and began to lift him into the air, halfway reclined like he was sitting in a beanbag chair. “ _Life is like a beat that you can’t follow, without love…”_

Eliot put out his hands to still them as he took over, “ _Life is like a Q who doesn’t swallow.”_

Quentin turned beet read and threw his hands over his face. He sang muffled into his hands, joining Eliot in harmony, “ _Darling, I’ll be yours forever ‘cause I never wanna be,”_ he tentatively looked up to meet Eliot’s steady, hungry gaze as they continued, “ _without lo-o-o-o-o-o-ove,”_ Quentin looked up fully now, his eyes glossy with lust and just fucking overjoyed, embarrassment aside, as he finished the chorus solo, “ _El, Baby, never set me free._ ”

The ensemble let Quentin down slowly and began circling the couple as they held each other’s gaze tenderly, slowly closing the space between them amid the background of the music.

_“Like a week that’s only Mondays, only ice cream, never sundaes, like a circle with no center, like a door marked do not enter…”_ the background singers plugged away, twirling and shimmying around them as Q and El melted together at the hips, holding each other’s arms and locking eyes as they finished the song in unison amid more _ooohs_ and _aaahs…_

_“Darling, I’ll be yours forever ‘cause I never wanna be without lo-o-o-o-o-o-ove,”_

Quentin belted out, _“Yes, now you’ve captured me…”_

The girls and (reluctantly) Penny took over, _“without lo-o-o-o-o-o-ove…”_

Eliot sang softly, only to Q, “ _I surrender happily…_ ”

The entire ensemble stopped for a dramatic crescendo, “ _Without lo-o-o-o-o-o-ove…”_

Eliot and Quentin stared directly at each other, singing the words from their hearts, right here, in front of everyone. _“Oh Darling, never set me free!_ ” Eliot held Quentin’s face in his hands and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. Quentin’s hands fluttered up behind Eliot before settling on El’s shoulders, gently caressing up his neck to weave into the back of his hair. Kady motioned to the others to give them some distance as the song (and the kiss) continued. The five of them resumed their accompaniment while branching out throughout the living room as Eliot deepened the kiss. The world melted away into the background sounds of their big-budget musical number raging around them, gearing up for the big finish… _”I ain’t lyin’, no, no, no…darling you had best believe me…never leave me without love!_ ”

The music stopped abruptly as Eliot and Quentin pulled apart. Quentin looked around slowly at the scene before him. Penny was holding Kady up in a very well-executed lift on his shoulder, just behind the couch. Julia was posing with one leg up on the stairs while Alice was sitting on the arm of the couch, leaning into Margo who had her hand on Alice’s thigh and her arm around her shoulders.

“Um,” Quentin uttered in genuine Quentin fashion.

Eliot looked around him and bit back a giggle. “Yeah, um, so…surprise! Not scared anymore,” Eliot joked tentatively, accented with jazz hands.

“Quentin laughed and shook his head, pulling Eliot in for a filthy, open-mouthed kiss by the back of his neck. Eliot’s eyebrows shot up before surrendering to his boyfriend’s will, happily. Quentin let go with a wet “smack” as their lips parted, jutting his chin forward and gritting his teeth.

“Upstairs,” he growled. Eliot didn’t protest.

Penny put Kady down a little roughly, which Kady didn’t mind. Margo took her arm back from around Alice’s shoulders, though she did linger a bit removing her hand from Alice’s thigh…Julia backed away from the stairs just in time to avoid colliding with a _very_ enthusiastic pair of boys clamoring for each other as they attempted to ascend the steps while fused together at the lips. Eliot pushed Quentin backwards up the stairs, which was met with a rough grip onto the front of Eliot’s shirt as Quentin pulled him forward, causing Eliot to lose his balance and nearly fall on top of Q. The two giggled shamelessly as they battled for dominance up the stairs. Quentin slammed Eliot against the wall on the landing and pressed his palms into his shoulders as he bit down onto Eliot’s neck. Eliot cried out a desperate “ah” before shoving Quentin backwards, lowering his head, and charging steadily toward him, locking eyes with Q like a predator stalking its prey. Q smiled and waggled his eyebrows tauntingly, backing up toward his room. “Come get me, Waugh, show me whatcha got,” he grinned. He turned abruptly and fled in playful panic as Eliot broke into a short run straight at him, darting into his room and spinning around just in time for Eliot to pounce. Eliot slammed the door shut behind him with magic (knowing it would make Q shudder, which it did) and pinned Quentin against the wall adjacent to the door. A look of surprise marked Q’s face as Eliot hovered above him, gracefully wrapping one of his large hands firmly around Quentin’s neck. Quentin’s eyes went wide and dark as Eliot took the hint and squeezed a little harder.

“So we like that then?” teased Eliot, quirking his eyebrows up, impressed.

“Fuck,” breathed Q, his voice raspy and strained.

“Quite interesting,” mused Eliot as he released him gently and turned his back on Quentin to saunter toward the bed. Quentin took the opportunity to stride briskly up behind him. He grabbed Eliot by the waist, spun him around, and pushed him backwards onto the bed. Quentin wasted no time in straddling Eliot, kissing him roughly as his hands began to wander down to the buttons on Eliot’s vest.

“Fuck, El, a little help?” Quentin huffed in frustration as he fumbled with the technicalities of undressing them.

“Ok ok, Jesus, Q, gimme a second…” Eliot laughed. _Jesus my boyfriend is a hot mess and I love him,_ he thought.

_My boyfriend…_

“What?” Q looked a little perplexed.

Oh shit, he had said that out loud.

“My boyfriend…” Eliot repeated, deliberately this time.

It wasn’t the first time they had said it. Well, Quentin had said it, but…that was during the poly talk and it was kind of in passing and they didn’t really discuss it. But Eliot had been internally calling Quentin his boyfriend for days now. After all, what else would you call the man you’re in a relationship with – the man you’ve confessed your undying love to.

But something about the way Eliot said it made Quentin shiver. Like now that they were home is was finally _real_.

_Eliot Waugh is my boyfriend,_ Quentin realized. _Holy fucking shit._

“Yeah, El,” Quentin managed to get out after a momentary internal freak out. “I’m your boyfriend.” Quentin smiled broadly.

_Fucking. Dimples._

Eliot let out a half-sob-half-laugh as his eyebrows softened to frame his dark, beautiful eyes and his mouth lilted into a gentle smile. Every feeling he had tried to suppress suddenly began to well up inside of him, and there was absolutely no holding it in this time. Fuck, he didn’t even want to. His eyes glazed over as he flashed Quentin the goofiest smile Q had ever seen. “You’re my fucking boyfriend,” he said dreamily.

Quentin looked side to side. “I’m _trying_ to be,” he said with a smirk. _The little brat_.

“Oh shut up and kiss me, boyfriend,” Eliot joked. With a quick tut, the buttons on _all_ of their clothing were undone. Quentin looked down and propped himself up on his elbow. With a smug look on his face, he performed a tut of his own and suddenly the two men were naked, their clothes neatly folded on the chair across the room. Eliot raised his eyebrows up, definitely impressed this time, before grabbing Quentin’s face and pulling him down for a searing kiss.

Quentin responded eagerly to the kiss, and for once, it was Eliot who melted automatically beneath Quentin, gasping for air and feeling like the world was spinning. Jesus, what this man did to him. And Eliot was quite content to just lie back and let him do anything in the world to him.

Quentin pressed into Eliot’s lips, nipping at his bottom lip and sucking hard on his tongue until Eliot let out a loud whine. Quentin grinned against Eliot’s bruised lips and licked slowly across the edges of Eliot’s top teeth. God, Quentin loved Eliot’s teeth. Eliot trembled beneath him, whimpering in Quentin’s arms as Q held him firmly, one hand cradling the back of Eliot’s head, the other wedged behind his back. Quentin licked eagerly into Eliot’s mouth, smoothing the flat of his tongue against Eliot’s, exploring his teeth, his tongue, the roof of his mouth, flicking the tips of their tongues together then fucking deep into his mouth reaching toward the back of his throat. Quentin usually marveled at what an amazing kisser Eliot was, but Quentin had more than a few tricks up his sleeve as well, and Quentin’s mouth, in all capacities, drove Eliot crazy.

Eliot panted and moaned shamelessly into Quentin’s mouth. Quentin couldn’t help but smile against him as he watched this usually-controlled and strikingly aloof man completely fall apart underneath him. Quentin wanted to take this man apart in so many different ways, and now that he knew their relationship hadn’t been a fantasy fling, he had _plans_ for Eliot. So. Many. Plans.

Quentin slid off of Eliot to stand on the flood next to the bed. “Get up onto the pillows,” he said. Eliot did as he was told and arranged himself so his head was on the pillows and he was lying properly on the bed now. Quentin crawled up Eliot’s body from the foot of the bed, slowly and sensually. He pressed hot kisses into the flesh of his pecs, working his way down as he poured all the love he had into making this man feel _amazing_. This had been…such an incredibly stressful day for both of them. Quentin had been hurt, and he would graciously allow Eliot to make it up to him at some point – for hours upon hours – but for now, all of the pain and tension dropped away as Quentin focused on giving Eliot _everything_ he needed. Taking care of him – his beautiful, kind, sometimes-stupid, _disaster_ of a boyfriend (though he’d never let anyone except him and Margo know about it).

Q stopped to flick the tip of his tongue over a hard nipple, which sent Eliot’s head flying back as his hissed in approval. He made his way downward, biting at Eliot’s ribs, nuzzling the soft expanses of skin and soft, dark hair on his belly, sucking purple bruises onto his hip bones. Eliot struggled to keep still as his hips jerked upward, his hard cock bouncing on his abdomen. Quentin stilled him more than once with a strong hand on his opposite hip as he continued his task of marking Eliot along his hip bones, down the crease of his thigh, on the underside of his butt cheek just about an inch away from his hole. Knowing he had marked him as _his_ in the most private of places sent shivers of arousal down Quentin’s spine.

Quentin looked up through long, full lashes to see Eliot looking down at him, panting and flushed. Eliot’s cock twitched as Quentin moved his strong hands to perform a cleaning spell on him, and El let out a soft gasp. Quentin smiled devilishly up at him. “You like that?” he prompted.

“God, Q, your hands…” Eliot breathed. Quentin’s hands were not as big as Eliot’s, but they were strong and sure, and particularly graceful when they were performing magic. Eliot loved watching his skillful fingers stretch and roll, flex and shift positions, even in the simplest of tuts. But especially now, there was something more… _confident_ about the way in which Quentin did magic. He was smooth and articulate, his hands deft and skillful, his fingers… _god, his fingers_ …so agile and flexible and _oh my god the things Eliot could imagine Quentin doing with those amazing fingers…_

“You like my hands, baby?” said Q, teeming with confidence now as he stretched his fingers outward then curled them back in sequence. He knew the best way to make Eliot completely lose his shit was to exude confidence and power from his pores, and frankly, he loved every minute of it.

And damn if it didn’t work. Eliot shivered as he nodded frantically up at Q, eyes wide and wanting. “Yeah, _fuck_ , Q, yeah I do,” was all Eliot could get out.

Quentin leaned down to rest his forearms on El’s chest, bringing their noses together, almost touching, as he whispered, sultry and smooth, “Well it’s a good thing I plan to return the favor you gave me earlier then.”

Eliot swallowed audibly as his head began to swim. Was…was Quentin saying he was going to… “Q…” Eliot squeaked out.

“If that’s ok with you, of course,” Quentin dragged a finger lazily over Eliot’s collarbone and traced the line of muscle in his neck up to his jaw. “It felt so good when you fisted me today,” Quentin mused, “So full. Stretched me out _so good_ , El. I wanted to make you feel that good, too.” Quentin’s fingers explored the sensitive spots behind Eliot’s ear… “Wanna see my whole hand disappear inside you…” Eliot squirmed under Quentin’s weight, letting his eyes flutter shut… “wanna make you _scream_ my name over and over…crying as you come with my fist deep inside…” Quentin dragged his fingers over Eliot’s cheek, letting two of them drop into Eliot’s mouth. Eliot latched on and sucked, rolling his tongue along the underside of Q’s fingers, making Quentin’s cock grow even harder against Eliot’s thigh… “wanna feel you tighten around me as you come hard all over the bed…” Quentin removed his fingers, eliciting a pitiful whine from Eliot as Q let his hands wander south… “is that what you want, El?”

Fucking hell, in a moment that was quickly becoming a trope for them, Eliot was _not prepared_. He tried to steady his thoughts as he processed the warm heap of incredibly sexy puppy on top of him, talking dirty to him as he danced his perfect fingers down his body, grazing over his cock _just_ barely, driving Eliot positively _out of his goddamned mind_.

“Y-yes, god, yes, Q,” Eliot managed to stammer out under his breath. Quentin responded by gripping Eliot’s cock hard, making him yelp as he froze with his jaw locked open before flopping his head back into the pillow. Quentin smiled and bit his lip, sitting up on Eliot’s thighs as he stroked him slowly, catching a drop of pre-cum on his thumb every now and then to smear it down his shaft, slicking him up and pulling out the _filthiest_ moans from Eliot’s throat. Eliot’s eyes rolled back in his head and Quentin worked his hand over his cock achingly slowly, making him shake with need as he hitched his hips forward, seeking more friction and begging for relief.

“Please, Q, _please,_ ” Eliot moaned loudly as he looked up to see Quentin letting go of his dick. Eliot whined in protest until he noticed Quentin performing a familiar tut, and _oh gods, his hands_. Eliot practically drooled (he might have actually drooled) as he watched those broad, gorgeous hands folding and flexing…the tendons and veins standing out, running down to his wrists…the delicate fingers moving seamlessly through the motions…the strong muscles straining and shifting under his skin…

The lube spreading over his fingertips and dripping down his knuckles, over his palms and down to his wrists…

“ _F-f-f-fuck-k-k-k-k-k-k,”_ Eliot shuddered out, breathy and hot. Quentin scooted back in between Eliot’s legs and pushed El’s legs wide. He bent down to lick teasingly at his hole for a moment, laving a broad swipe over his entrance, then pushing the tip of his tongue inside as Eliot let out a high-pitched moan and rolled his hips, rapidly losing control. Quentin reached down and drew a finger delicately along Eliot’s seam and down over his hole, just grazing his entrance as he traced back between his cheeks slightly before turning and going back. Eliot drew in a sharp intake of air as Quentin pressed against his hole and slowly worked a slick finger in. Eliot bore down and signaled for Quentin to keep going until his finger was buried in him all the way. Q began fucking his finger in and out, enjoying the slow drag of his knuckles against Eliot’s rim as he pulled out all the way before plunging back in. He quickly added another finger and began scissoring him open, pulling his fingers out slowly as he spread them wide, stretching and tugging while Eliot sobbed into a pillow he had thrown across his face.

Quentin could watch Eliot unravel all damn day. He never got tired of seeing this long tower of a man turn into a complete puddle in Quentin’s hands. Quentin hadn’t even touched himself yet and he was painfully hard, his cock straining forward to brush periodically along Eliot’s inner thigh as Q fingered him open relentlessly. He tapped Eliot on the leg and held up three fingers on his free hand, raising his eyebrows questioningly. Eliot looked out from behind the pillow and nodded, so Quentin slipped another finger into Eliot’s hole. He twisted his hand upward to allow the pads of his fingers to press into Eliot’s prostate, drawing a loud, strangled scream from Eliot’s swollen lips. He looked down at the point where his fingers disappeared into Eliot’s body, so slick and open for him. The sight made his breath catch in his throat as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“More, Q, give me more,” Eliot rasped out, asking for a fourth finger to be added with the others. Quentin wasted no time in complying as he slipped another wet finger into Eliot’s hole. He could feel the muscle stretch and relax and contract around him as he fucked into him, harder now, rough and determined, knowing full well how Eliot liked to be fucked.

Eliot’s body flailed around as he was slammed up into the headboard (thank the gods for the pillows he had placed between his head and the headboard to soften the blow). He met each thrust with groan after groan, growing louder and less constrained as time went on. He lifted his legs up and held onto the backs of his thighs to give Quentin more room as he yelled, “More, Q, _fuck_ baby I need more. All of it, please.”

Quentin did a quick tut to add more lube and sent his thumb in alongside his other fingers, pushing slowly but steadily, twisting gradually, just as Eliot had done.

“El,” he said, “El, turn over, baby. Get on your knees for me.”

And oh god, something about Quentin telling him to get on his knees for him was…Eliot couldn’t think. He hastily turned himself over and pushed up onto his hands and knees, presenting himself to Quentin openly. Quentin rubbed small circles into his ass, just to reassure him, before replacing all five fingers and pushing them into Eliot as he felt his tight rim open and stretch around his second knuckles. The angle was much easier this way, and since Quentin’s hands were broad, he was grateful for the change in position. He slowly moved his hand in and out, remembering the motions Eliot had used on him just a few hours ago, turning slightly, and stopping now and then to push gently. Eliot gasped a few times, Quentin checking in each time to see if he was still “green”.

He was. _Bright fucking green_ as Eliot had told him. Which was evident as Eliot began pushing back onto Quentin’s hand, fucking himself onto his fingers, begging Quentin for _more, Q, goddamnit FUCK will you please just shove it in there._ Quentin didn’t want to hurt Eliot and was still tentative, so Eliot took it upon himself to push himself back until he felt the resistance he needed from Quentin, holding his hand very still and sturdy so that Eliot could fuck himself on it the way he liked. Watching Eliot sink back and take his pleasure from Quentin was so incredibly fucking hot, Quentin almost lost his damn mind. It was all he could do for a minute to just freeze and let Eliot take what he needed from him.

Eliot rocked back and stilled, putting constant pressure on Quentin’s fingers until he felt himself open up and push past Q’s third knuckles. He let out a loud, “haaaahhh,” as Quentin pushed forward and slid his hand all the way inside him. He watched in awe as the ring of muscle stretched around him then collapsed back in around his wrist. _Fuck, no wonder Eliot had gotten off on this..._ Quentin could probably come without being touched at this point. He waited for the signal from Eliot, frozen in place, his hair hanging down in front of his face and dripping with sweat.

“Q… _move_ , baby,” commanded Eliot. Quentin started to slowly pull his hand out, only half way, before plunging it back in to squeeze those _ungodly_ sounds from Eliot’s throat. He worked his hand back and forth, feeling Eliot relax around him before curling his hand into a fist inside him. Eliot’s hips jumped, and Quentin checked in to see that he was still ok.

“Yeah, baby, still green, Q… _God_ , am I green…” Eliot panted and moaned as he rocked himself back onto Quentin’s fist faster and faster. Quentin let Eliot do most of the work, coming up to meet him when he could gauge the rhythm. Mostly, Q just knelt there behind El, watching with ravenous eyes, jaw dropped open, taking in the sweating, moaning spectacle that was his _boyfriend_ fucking himself on Q’s fist.

“Q,” Eliot squeaked out. He sounded completely wrecked, as though he would collapse at any moment. “Q, touch yourself, baby. Please. I want… _fuck_ , _hnmggh_ …I want you to come on me. Please. I’m so close, Q…”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Quentin nodded quickly as his hand flew to his cock, unbearably hard and desperate for attention. Eliot reached down between his legs to grab his own cock, leaking and heavy, dragging on the bed and making a goddamned mess of things. He babbled absolutely _disgusting_ things while he jerked himself off roughly, dripping with sweat and stopping to scream when Quentin hit that soft bundle of tissue inside him _just right_. Eliot lost his mind entirely when Quentin began rotating his fist, brushing his knuckles against Eliot’s prostate every time. Q recognized the tense quake of Eliot’s thighs signaling that he was about to come. Quentin doubled down on his efforts, fisting him hard while jerking himself off with his other hand.

“Come on, El, come for me,” Quentin grunted as he lined himself up so he could come on Eliot the way he wanted. “I’m gonna come, El. Gonna come all over you. All over your ass and…and up your back…gonna make such a mess of you, baby… _fuck_ …”

“ _F-f-fuck, Q, oh my g-god…_ ” Eliot stuttered. He felt a warm knot of pleasure rising up inside him, taking him over and filling him like a white glow in his belly, finally surrendering as he stroked his cock faster and harder. “Q, I’m comi- _oh fuck, Quentin!_ ” Eliot came just moments before Quentin did, screaming Quentin’s name while Q stuttered and shook with Eliot’s name on his lips – the only thing he seemed to be able to remember.

Quentin panted as he slowly came back to himself, dizzy and trembling and just _floating_ back down to Earth. He looked down at his handiwork for a moment – the long ropes of cum stretching out along Eliot’s back, a decent amount splattered on his ass… _Fuck, that was hot_. He slowly stretched out his fingers to slide his hand out of Eliot as they both collapsed on the bed, Quentin halfway draped over Eliot, El’s mass of curls bombarding Q’s face, which he didn’t seem to mind. He lazily performed a cleaning tut with the last bit of strength his arms had left. Everything, the whole shit show of a day seemed to fade away in this moment, as Quentin lay blissed out and content with his boyfriend, exhausted, spent, and fully in love. He lay there for a few minutes, unable to move, attempting to catch his breath. Eliot’s breathing had slowed significantly, and Quentin was calmed by the rhythmic sound of El’s breathing, in…and out…like a lullaby. How had he ever been mad at this man? He thought back on it, and realized, _ok, yeah, that’s how…_ remembering the day’s events, but somehow it honestly all seemed so trivial now. Not exactly that it was _trivial_ so much as…well, Quentin could _understand_ better. He knew that El was scared. He knew what El _did_ when he was scared. And more than anything, he just wanted to be the one to help him _not_ be scared anymore.

And god, he just loved him _so fucking much_.

Eliot shifted up to rest his head on the pillows. Quentin followed suit and rested his head in the crook of Eliot’s arm, nuzzling softly into his armpit, inhaling the sweet smell of _Eliot_ and sex before settling with his cheek on Eliot’s chest. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the soft swell of Eliot’s chest as he inhaled…the slow descent on the exhale. He rode the wave, up and down, up and down as Eliot soothed him with his breathing. It had been a long day, and Q was definitely about to fall asleep…

Eliot turned his head to rub his nose gently in Quentin’s hair, breathing in deeply, memorizing the complex scent of his boyfriend. He never wanted to be without that smell. He wanted to bottle it and keep it with him, to just whip out and take a good hit off of whenever he needed comforting. He couldn’t keep a smile from creeping across his face when he exhaled. Quentin was like a drug, and Eliot couldn’t go long without his fix.

Downstairs, the coerced back-up performers were probably gossiping like crazy about the events of the day – speculating about their relationship, how it had happened, where it would go – but Eliot didn’t have the mental space to even consider them right now. Because right now, here, in this moment, he had Q. And Q had him. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen, whether he liked it or not, and he didn’t have the energy to be concerned about that.

Everything that mattered was right here in this room. He was pleasantly sore, he had an insanely sexy nerd falling asleep on his chest, and at this moment, nothing else mattered. At this moment, everything was perfect.


End file.
